All Gone
by fixusi
Summary: After a mission to extract a dangerous man goes wrong, Wyatt needs to fight for his life to survive. / Some Wyatt whump with a dash of badass Mac on the side.
1. Chapter 1

_An: Yo, another Strike Back: Retribution fanfic! I'm just in love with the show and I love hurting Wyatt, what can I say? Enjoy!_

 _Also, this is inspired by the prompt "_ _Write a torture/captivity scene where the whumpee is kept for fun and without any reason" by WhumpersHaven on Tumblr._

 _Warnings: Some violence, a bit of swearing_

 **1**

"We can't stay here forever", Wyatt reminded Mac, not tearing his eyes off the building in the distance. He was low on the ground, the little slope in the ground giving him barely any cover, aiming his gun at the huge front door of the abandoned factory. "If they see us, we're as good as dead."

Mac sighed barely audibly. He, too, was keeping a tight eye on the factory in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their guy. "Five more minutes. He has to be in there."

He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he couldn't help glancing at Mac with furrowed brows. "We've been here for two hours, Mac. If the guy was in there, we would've-"

"There", Mac cut his teammate off and pointed at the factory. "Third story window, far left corner."

Wyatt turned his gaze back to the factory with a scoff. He looked up and saw it; a thin, tall man with a hood drawn over his head stood in the window, just looking out. If Wyatt and Mac weren't in the shadows of the trees surrounding the plot of land, Crowe would've seen them immediately.

"Shit", Wyatt breathed out. He realized he'd been wrong and bugged Mac for nothing, but hell if he was going to admit it. Instead of an apology or a ' _you were right',_ Wyatt simply glanced at Mac again before crouching and picking up his gun. "Let's do this."

The cocky grin on Mac's face was annoying, to say the least, but Wyatt knew to just ignore it. "I told you", Mac said, carefully climbing to his feet but staying low as well, and then turned his focus on the factory. "Let's go."

As they jogged into the shadows of the forest and then quickly but carefully made their way towards the factory, Wyatt kept to himself. It was what he always did whenever he was mentally preparing himself for a firefight, because he knew it was about to come. The factory wasn't exactly crawling with enemies, but it was still at least ten to two, and he was never a fan of such odds.

They neared the factory in silence and then stopped where the trees ended. Mac pressed on his earpiece and quickly told Donovan what was about to happen. After the usual speech, ' _don't die and bring the guy back alive'_ , Donovan wished them luck and disappeared, leaving them in the silence. At least Donovan had promised to send Novin and Reynolds to their help. That was something.

"Ready?" Mac asked, shooting a glance at Wyatt's direction.

"Wait", Wyatt said, getting Mac to stop.

"What?"

Wyatt looked at the empty entrance of the factory. It felt almost too quiet, too easy, like there was nobody in there at all. And in Wyatt's, and probably Mac's as well, when something seemed too good to be true, it never was.

"Don't you think it's a bit too calm in there?" Wyatt asked quietly, looking at Mac. He couldn't shake the feeling they were walking into an ambush.

Mac glanced at the doors. "You afraid it's a trap? We can't exactly use the back door either, remember? It's blocked."

"Just being cautious. If it is a trap and we let this guy go…"

"Exactly, we can't let him go, which means we have to move before they make us standing in here like two good-for-nothings. We got each other's backs."

Wyatt had to admit Mac had a point, and so he nodded. He was always scared before an op, but it was the good kind of fear; the kind that kept him ready in case something went wrong, and something always went wrong. Still, he couldn't just wipe out the concern wallowing in his stomach, and so he drew in a deep breath to calm his nerves before opening his mouth. "Yeah. Let's go."

Holding his gun a little tighter, Wyatt moved out of the shadows Mac two steps behind him. They crossed the ten yards to the front doors in a matter of seconds and then stopped. Their eyes met and Mac grabbed the handle, nodding as a signal for Wyatt to get ready.

Wyatt breathed in and Mac pushed open the door. It opened with a loud, long creak that made shivers run down Wyatt's back. Even if nobody had seen then come, everyone in the building had definitely heard it. They had to move.

He stepped into the long corridor that ran the side of the factory. Left there was the stairwell upstairs, covered in rubble and leaves and broken glass, and to the right, there was an open doorway further into the factory. They had looked into the place before heading here, and they knew that on the other side of the factory there was another stairwell, meaning they needed to cover both of them if they wanted to make sure Crowe didn't sneak out behind their backs.

"See you upstairs", Mac whispered with a smirk and turned left.

Instinctively Wyatt crouched a little, grabbed his gun a little tighter and made his way towards the doorway that some time ago probably had had some sort of double doors guarding the factory itself. Now the last reminder of said doors were a couple loose hinges still in the frame.

Inside of the factory was even worse than the corridor had been. Teenagers had obviously found it, because the huge machinery had been destroyed and spray painted. Walls were covered with different sorts of profanities and poorly drawn pictures of female and male genitalia. As Wyatt made his way through the huge hall, he tried his best to avoid the biggest pieces of glass from the broken windows, not only to spare his shoes but to avoid making noise. The machines spread around the hall offered him some cover, but the place was huge and if the hostiles attacked him now, it wouldn't have been difficult for one of them to circle behind him. It was needless to say he didn't want that.

A soft _crack_ echoed from somewhere behind him, startling Wyatt just a little. He swirled around gun first, and let his gaze scan the hall. The place stood still and whatever had made the noise was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging it off as a mouse or something of the kind, Wyatt turned back around and continued to the end of the room.

He reached the stairwell fairly quick. Huge, broken windows gave the place lots of light, but even in the sunshine, there was a certain feel to the place that made the hairs on Wyatt's neck stand up. He still felt like it was too quiet, but on the other hand, it kept him on his guard.

"Reached the second floor. Nothing here, going up", Mac's hushed voice rang into Wyatt's ear.

"Ten seconds out from the second floor", Wyatt replied equally as quietly and then fell silent. He was halfway up the stairs as he reached the stair landing and then continued upwards confidently. Mac had said the second floor was empty; he needed to get to the third one as soon as possible, because Mac was about to face ten - or more - hostiles by himself.

Rushing the last few steps, Wyatt came to the top and stopped. A door frame that no longer held a door had been blocked with a drawer that reached Wyatt's waist. The alarm bells went off in the back of Wyatt's head; something was wrong. Why would Crowe have his men block the doorway? It wasn't something that bad guys did when they had no idea the good guys were watching.

Or, Wyatt thought, he might have been reading into it way too much and this was just another idea that the teenagers vandalizing this place had come up with. He set his gun on the drawer to have his hands free to jump over it. Placing his hands on the drawer, Wyatt hopped on top of it when something collided with his jaw and he flew backward with a grunt, landing on his back on the stairwell floor.

He had no time to waste and his instincts kicked in. He scrambled up just as a muscular man jumped over the drawer with no issue whatsoever. The man, who Wyatt immediately recognized as Elliot Grimsbane, a highly trained black-ops soldier gone rogue, was faster and grabbed Wyatt by the strap of his bulletproof vest, tossing him aside like a rag doll. Wyatt went rolling down the stairs, his head and limbs slamming on the edges, until he finally stopped on the landing. He felt blood drip on his cheeks from somewhere on his forehead and for a second he couldn't even draw in a breath - until he realized he was going to die if he didn't move, and forced himself up.

Grimsbane was halfway down the stairs when Wyatt sprung to his feet. "You made a mistake coming here", Grimsbane said, an emotionless look on his scarred face. "This is nothing personal."

"Give it your best shot", Wyatt encouraged him on, scared but positive that he could take this guy on.

Wyatt threw the first punch before Grimsbane could and managed to hit him on the cheek. Elliot grunted and staggered back a step, quickly ducking Wyatt's next punch by crouching down and charging at Wyatt. He grabbed Wyatt by the waist, slamming him into the wall back first.

"Shit!" Wyatt cried out as Grimsbane grabbed him by the wrist and forced his hand up while, with his free hand, grabbing Wyatt by the throat.

Bringing his knee up, Wyatt kicked Grimsbane to the shin and then swirled around, breaking himself free from his hold. He grabbed Elliot by the head and bashed his head against the wall. Blood spurted from his nose as it cracked painfully hard, but Wyatt knew he couldn't stop there. He grabbed his handgun, about to put Grimsbane out of his misery, when suddenly Grimsbane turned around and snatched Wyatt by the wrist while simultaneously slamming his other fist against Wyatt's jaw.

Wyatt's head snapped back and, taking advantage of the moment, Grimsbane yanked the gun away, tossing it down the stairs. He gave Wyatt no time to recover but quickly grabbed him by the neck, yanked him closer and then threw him at the window.

Wyatt felt the glass cut at his thighs as he quickly tipped over the edge - and fell.

He hit the ground side first, his ribs colliding with a stone the size of his foot. He could barely register what had happened when the pain already exploded in his body, and he couldn't swallow a groan. Black spots danced in front of his vision as he struggled to draw in a breath. Slowly he rolled over to his back and off the rock, tears making their way to his eyes as he tried to fight the overwhelming agony that flared down his entire side.

Grimsbane peeked his head out the window and smiled. If the pain hadn't been so bad, Wyatt would've told him to shove his smile up his ass, but it took all of his mental strength just to breathe. He just needed to breathe through the pain and wait for it to pass. It had to, right?

"What the hell happened?" Mac's voice came through the earpiece. "Wyatt. Where are you?"

"Elliot Grims-", Wyatt started but a stinging pain in his side made him stop and grunt. It felt like someone was jabbing a knife into his side, and he had hoped never to feel that pain again.

"Grimsbane? You shitting me?" Mac filled in the sentence and sighed. He was speaking quietly, obviously hiding. "You okay, mate? I got to get Crowe."

Wyatt nodded, knowing full well Mac couldn't see him, but he needed the reassurance himself. He was okay, had to be. And even if he wasn't, he needed to fight through it or he wasn't going to live to see the day he was okay again.

"Just get him", Wyatt gave Mac an order. He was a soldier; he was trained to survive these situations, and he could damn well get through this without Mac's help.

The mission came first. Capturing Crowe came first.

"Stay alive, will ya?" Mac said and the line cut off.

Wyatt sighed a little. The pain was easing into an achy, annoying throb, but a manageable one. He could do this. Had to.

Pushing himself up with his elbows, Wyatt looked around. Grimsbane was nowhere to be seen anymore, but he knew Wyatt was still alive, so he probably was coming and Wyatt needed to get somewhere where he had a chance of winning.

He forced himself to his knees and then, with a low groan, to his feet. He held his side as if it helped when it definitely didn't, and slowly started to make his way to the back entrance of the abandoned factory. It looked blocked, but Wyatt was hoping he could squeeze in anyways.

Reaching the door, Wyatt suddenly heard a soft thud behind him. He swirled around and saw Grimsbane standing by the nearest first story window, probably having jumped out of it to save himself the trouble of circling the whole building. The look on his face was ominous, and Wyatt backed away a step.

"Don't do this", Wyatt said as Grimsbane started approaching. His heart was racing in his chest as he looked at the massive soldier. Winning that fight seemed impossible in that moment and he couldn't stop thinking about the guns he'd left inside.

"I've got my orders", Grimsbane replied, nearing Wyatt too fast for comfort.

Wyatt froze. "Fine", he said, staring up at the taller man defiantly, and then moved. Before Grimsbane could act Wyatt had grabbed a brick from the pile blocking the back door and slammed it over Grimsbane's head. The adrenaline dulled the pain in his side but didn't remove it, and as he swung, his side sent a flare of pain up his arm and down his leg. Instinctively he grunted and doubled slightly. He saw Grimsbane reach out, aiming to grab Wyatt by the head, but quickly Wyatt ducked with a fast step backward. He didn't stop, knowing it would be his doom - instead, he crouched down despite the pain, grabbed another of the bricks and shot up, slamming his foot into Grimsbane's knee and the brick down on his skull.

Grimsbane fell on his knee with a cry as blood spilled from the fresh wound on the top of his head. The brick in Wyatt's hand was still intact, so without hesitation, he slammed it over his head again and then again.

"Wyatt, there's a problem", Mac's quiet voice echoed into his ear, but Wyatt barely heard him.

It looked as if Grimsbane was going to get up, so Wyatt hit again. He couldn't risk it. The brick broke, so Wyatt took a quick step back and sent his foot into his chest, knocking him on his back.

"There are only four guys here. No sign of Crowe", Mac continued. "Where are you?"

Grimsbane groaned and spat out blood but still pushed himself up to his knees.

"Wait", Wyatt told Mac, grabbing a third brick from the pile and moved closer to Grimsbane, staring him deep into the eye. Blood was seeping out from multiple cuts on his head down his cheeks and jaw, making him look even scarier than he actually was.

His cold stare pierced right through Wyatt as he glared at him. "I will kill you, asshole."

Wyatt scoffed. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen."

"You sure?"

Mac's voice. "Wyatt…"

Wyatt furrowed his brows. This guy wasn't serious. Near dead and obviously lost, and still he kept threatening him?

Grimsbane's expression melted into a twisted smile but never took his eyes off Wyatt. "Good night, asshole."

Somehow Wyatt felt a movement behind him and swirled around - just in time to see the bottom of the gun before it collided with his head. He lost his footing as the gun slammed into his temple and hit the ground right next to Grimsbane. The brick fell from his grasp but before he could reach for it, Grimsbane had snatched it from the ground.

"Wyatt, fucking answer me", Mac insisted on the earpiece.

"Mac!" Wyatt started, but Grimsbane cut him off.

"Payback's a bitch", he said and slammed the brick over Wyatt's face.


	2. Chapter 2

_An: Welcome back! And thank you, anon, for the nice review :)_

 _Warnings: Same old, same old. Violence and swearing. Also gets pretty dark at one point. Mentioned child abuse?_

 **2**

A slap across the cheek was what brought him back. It stung, but it was quickly drowned by a massive headache thundering in the back of his skull. He opened his eyes to see Crowe's smirking face above his. "Good morning, Mr. Wyatt", Crowe said.

Wyatt didn't bother to answer. A quick glance around the room told him he had no idea where he was; the place was dirty, creepy, and seemed kind of end-of-the-worldish, but it was definitely not the old factory. The small room was empty aside from a tray table with a few drawers underneath it, and the table Wyatt had been strapped to.

They weren't in the abandoned factory anymore and somehow Crowe had made it out. It felt like Wyatt's heart skipped a beat as he realized something. "What did you do to Mac?"

"Mac? I believe I don't know who you're referring to", Crowe said, obviously playing dumb. His thin lips pulled into a cocky smirk.

"You know who the fuck I mean", Wyatt spat. He had no energy for Crowe's games. "What did you do to him? Where is he?"

"Oh, McAllister? Your teammate?"

"That's the one."

Crowe sighed, taking a step back. He never tore his eyes from Wyatt as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "Unfortunately McAllister got away before my men could reach him. He was well prepared for us, to say the least. But nevermind that, we'll have him with us in no time, I'm sure. What puzzles me is why he would leave you behind, you two being partners and all, but then again, he seemed like a man who knows when to cut his losses."

Grinning a little, Wyatt couldn't help a wave of relief wash over him. He knew Crowe's kind; they were nasty and sometimes pure evil who deserved to be locked up for the rest of their lives for all the shit they've put innocent people through, but they didn't lie. They manipulated the truth to hurt their victims, but their words were never complete lies. It was an efficient way to mess with an uneducated person's mind, but thankfully Wyatt wasn't one of those people.

"So what do you want from me, huh?" Wyatt asked, ignoring Crowe's badly masked attempts of turning him against his own people. "I have nothing to give you."

"That's where you're wrong", Crowe answered, unfolding his arms and turning to the tray table. He grabbed the top drawer and pulled it open, slowly going through whatever was inside. "In a way, anyways. I don't need anything from you, but I do need _you_."

Wyatt eyed Crowe as he straightened his back and pulled something shiny out of the drawer before turning back to the captured soldier. "Me? Listen, asshole, as I told you, there's nothing I can help you with", Wyatt said as his eyes wandered to the object Crowe was holding; a pair of thick but blunt pliers. He couldn't help a shudder run through his body; he knew where this was going.

"Oh, you're wondering about these?" Crowe asked as he noticed Wyatt staring at the pliers. He lifted them up a little and glanced at them himself. "You must know my reputation, Mr. Wyatt. I imagine that is why you came after me."

"I know everything about you", Wyatt said and grimaced. His heart was racing in his chest but he was doing his best to control his fear, knowing the worst mistake he could do in that situation was show weakness. "I know your daddy used to beat you and that your mommy killed herself. I know that you joined the army but were kicked out because you had mental issues. Killed a bunch of civilians. You served time, probably was used as someone's girlfriend, and got out only to go under the radar."

A scary smile rose on Crowe's lips as he shifted his gaze to Wyatt. The thin smile never reached his dark eyes. "You've definitely done your homework. Did you read about the part of me killing my commanding… Sorry, _former_ commanding officer?"

Wyatt stayed quiet. He knew it wasn't an actual question.

Crowe took a step closer to Wyatt, slow and freaky. His smile started to drop. "After I got out, I tracked him down. Followed him around for weeks, learned his every weakness, every habit. And then, one night, I broke in and I slit his daughter's throat right in front of him. She'd just turned four a couple days before. The poor guy tried to fight, but I was better. I'm always better, Wyatt. I took my time with him. He died knowing I'd taken everything from him."

Cold shivers ran down Wyatt's back. He'd seen a lot of death in his life, a lot of murderers and terrorist and warlords, but Crowe was something he'd never encountered before. It disgusted him, and he couldn't help hot, burning hate rise in his stomach. He could never excuse violence used on innocent civilians, but killing a child whose only crime was being born into the wrong family was on a completely different level. It was simply incomprehensible.

"You're sick", Wyatt spat. He couldn't tear his eyes off Crowe's icy glare. There was something so cold, so scary in his eyes, as if he felt absolutely nothing. "I swear, when I get out of here, you'll pay for every life you've taken. I'll personally make sure you'll never see the sun again in your life. And you know what they do to child killers in prison, Crowe. I hope you enjoyed being a prison bitch last time, because-"

His sentence was cut short by Crowe swinging his pliers down and hitting them into Wyatt's cheek in a burst of anger. Wyatt cried out as he felt the tip of the pliers cut his skin but had no time to turn his head away when Crowe slammed them down again, his face turning red in fury. "You don't have a fucking idea of what it's like for me!" Crowe screamed, hitting the pliers down again and again.

When Crowe finally stopped after the sixth hit, he staggered back a few steps, still fuming and shaking of anger.

Wyatt closed his eyes, barely breathing, the pain in his torn open cheek spreading all across his skull. He could feel blood bubbling from the wound and down his skin before dripping on the metallic table under him.

"You don't have any idea", Crowe hissed, desperately trying to compose himself. Wyatt opened his eyes to look at him, and Crowe simply glared back, hunching and breathing heavily. "You're happy I'm not into that sort of thing, Mr. Wyatt. Otherwise, your stay here would quickly become much, much more unpleasant for you. Something a few stitches wouldn't repair. A broken soul is something so much more dangerous than a broken body."

"Fuck you", Wyatt muttered, spitting out a little blood he felt gather in his mouth. He'd probably bitten down on his tongue or cheek, or so he at least hoped. He wasn't going to thank this piece of shit for not sexually abusing him, no. He was going to catch him and lock him up for the rest of his life so the prison inmates could deliver some real justice to the guy.

Crowe returned to the tray table and opened the drawer at the very bottom, pulling out a little rag. He closed the drawer and, now seemingly calm, started to clean the pliers of Wyatt's blood. "As I was trying to tell you, I need you, Mr. Wyatt", Crowe said, no tearing his eyes from the pliers. "I am not returning to prison, and a certain someone offered to pay me a magnificent sum of money for stripping the skin off you and your teammates. But because your team is, well, resourceful, I need to weaken them. I need to show them that I am not to be taken lightly. Make them fear me. Because fear, Mr. Wyatt, is what destroys kings."

Lowering the now clean pliers on top of the tray table, Crowe finally looked at Wyatt. His expression was emotionless, like he was staring at a blank wall.

"And you're doing that by killing me?" Wyatt asked and laughed a little, immediately regretting it as he felt his cheek sting a little harder. He quickly shook the smile off with a barely audible grunt. "I'm sorry, but you're a fucking idiot. If you think seeing me dead is going to do anything but motivate them to come at you with everything they've got, you're even dumber than you look."

"Maybe if they saw you", Crowe said calmly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest again. "But they won't see _you._ They will see videos first. You, crying, screaming, begging me to end it. Then they get a package, find a finger inside, and then another the next day. Then maybe a foot. Some teeth. A strip of your skin, an eye, an ear, a nose… You understand what I'm saying, don't you?

"They'll find me before you even get near to taking any photos", Wyatt spat, but couldn't shake the evergrowing fear off his shoulders. He'd been tortured before, and while it was never pleasant, he could handle waterboarding. He could handle a few cuts and a little blood, hell, even getting stabbed and still working an op the next day. But he had never been in a situation remotely close to this before, and he was completely and utterly defenseless. His life depended on his teammates and he had no idea when they were coming - or even _if_ they were coming at all. Who knew where Crowe had brought him?

But as scared as he was, showing it wasn't an option. Crowe seemed to get off on people's fears, just like Wyatt had anticipated, and if Wyatt was going to die a slow, painful death on that damn table in some sort of World War two shelter, he was going to make it as unpleasant for Crowe as he possibly could.

"Well, we better get started then, won't we?" Crowe asked and turned to the tray table, opening the top drawer again.

Wyatt drew in a breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for whatever was about to come, but there was simply no way to prepare for torture. When the pain got too bad and lasted for too long, even the most trained soldiers broke. Even if they spilled no secrets and they were later rescued, their spirits had been broken to the point of no repair. Wyatt had seen enough veterans to know what that looked like, and he never wanted to be one of them.

He just needed to endure and hope for an opening. His wrists and ankles had been secured to the legs of the table by zip locks, which meant it wasn't impossible for him to break free, but it would be hard. Thankfully, the way Crowe spoke, it sounded like he wasn't going to immediately kill Wyatt, which meant that in case Mac and the others took their sweet time finding him, he had plenty of time to get free.

"Aha", Crowe suddenly said and stood up straight, pulling something out of the drawer with him. With a wide, cold grin on his lips, he turned to see Wyatt, showing him what he found; a sharp and shiny knife with a smooth edge. "Found it. Mr. Wyatt, meet the one who killed my commander Richard Brown."

Wyatt furrowed his brows, acting braver than he was feeling. He would've given anything to get free of his damn restraints and kick that fucker's teeth in, but he knew it wasn't going to be that easy. He also knew that if he allowed Crowe to do too much damage, he might not be able to free himself later on. Getting cut and poked with a knife was a risk. One wrong move and Crowe severed an artery, after which Wyatt would officially be fucked.

"Oh, don't look so disappointed. This knife has killed a lot of skilled men. It's an honor, getting to die with this blade on your throat", Crowe said, taking a threatening step towards Wyatt. "I'm not saying that you're dying right now, but when the time comes, it will be through this knife that you'll start your journey to the afterlife."

Crowe set the knife down on Wyatt's bare chest and slowly slid it down towards his hip. He didn't apply any pressure, so the knife left no trace. It was a scare-tactic, and Wyatt knew it.

"Fancy", Wyatt said with a faked grin that made his cheek sting. This time he fought through the pain and kept on smirking. He needed Crowe to do something less lethal. "But I do wonder, if that's what you're going to use on me… Are you scared?"

"Scared?" Crowe asked, stopping with the knife but not picking it up.

Wyatt nodded. He tried to control his breathing that was threatening to get too quick and too shallow for a man who was supposed to not be scared. "You're using a knife to torture me. Are you scared that you can't hurt me without a tool? I mean, I wouldn't blame you, I just think it's a bit amateurish, that's all."

Crowe pushed the tip of the knife into Wyatt's skin just above his navel. Wyatt tensed up and hissed, closing his eyes as an unpleasant pain stung in his stomach. "You think I am an amateur for using a knife?" Crowe asked, sliding the knife down a little, making Wyatt grunt and arch his back a little. "No, Mr. Wyatt, it's the exact opposite. An amateur uses a knife and the subject dies in a matter of minutes. A professional uses a knife and the subject lives for days, even weeks. I promise you, I am no amateur, Mr. Wyatt. You'll see."

xxx

"What do you mean she had no idea where they could be?" Mac asked into the phone, having to really control himself not to yell. He reminded himself that none of this was Novin's fault, actually, if anyone was to blame it was Mac himself. He'd failed to help Wyatt; seeing him unconscious in the arms of one of the soldiers and not being able to do anything to get him back. And now he was gone and nobody seemed to know where. All they knew for sure was that he didn't have a lot of time.

He was on his way back to the abandoned factory with Reynolds next to him on the driver's seat. He was hoping they'd left something behind, anything that would tell them where they'd taken Wyatt.

"Crowe's wife hasn't even seen him since he was sent back from the army", Novin explained on the other side of the line. "All she knew was that he used to disappear at night for a good few hours before returning before morning and act like he was never gone."

"We need to find them", Mac solemnly said. "Keep looking into it. There's got to be something we missed."

"Well, if you hadn't killed all the soldiers", Novin said and sighed. "Yeah, we'll look into it."

"Thanks", Mac said, and suddenly his phone beeped. He lowered it from his ear and glanced at the screen; one new video message from an unknown number.

He furrowed his brows and placed the phone back onto his ear. "I gotta go. Let me know what you find out", he said and without waiting for a reply from Novin, ended the call. Glancing at Reynolds, he could feel that something was wrong. "Someone sent me a video. Unknown number."

"Well, open it", Reynolds said and quickly glanced at Mac. "What is it?"

"Wait", Mac muttered as he opened the message and then the video itself. A picture of a brick wall opened on the screen and a second later the video started to roll.

The camera was shaky as it filmed the wall for a bit and then turned around. It was dark for a moment but then someone switched on the lights and Mac could see what was going on; Wyatt was laying on a metallic table in the middle of a room that looked straight out of a horror movie's basement. His shirt was off and he had been secured to the table by his wrists and ankles, laid out like a dead rat. He was breathing fast and shallow, obviously in pain but trying to fight against it. Blood dripped out of multiple long cuts all across his torso.

Mac could feel his blood start to boil as someone stepped into the frame - Crowe, with a wide grin on his lips. Whoever held the camera stepped a little closer and turned it away from Wyatt, showing only Crowe's smirking face.

"Good evening, section 20. How are you?" Crowe asked and his smirk widened. "Hopefully better than your friend here."

The camera turned back to Wyatt. He wasn't looking into the camera, but kept his eyes closed, as if he was ashamed or afraid. Mac wouldn't have blamed him for both.

"As you can see, he's not doing very well, and he's about to feel a lot worse", Crowe continued off-screen. The cameraman stepped back, showing now both Wyatt and Crowe, as Crowe grabbed something from a little tray table hidden from the frame behind him.

Reynolds glanced at the screen. "What's going on?"

Mac shook his head. "They're hurting him."

His grin fading away, Crowe lifted up a knife and examined it in silence for a second before turning his gaze to Wyatt. "Do you think we should do another round?" he asked, waiting patiently for a few seconds for an answer that never came. Wyatt kept his eyes closed and if it wasn't for the rapid breathing, Mac would've thought he was actually unconscious.

It seemed like Crowe had no patience for Wyatt's games, and so he curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into Wyatt's face. A surprised grunt escaped Wyatt's lips and he opened his eyes just to see Crowe punch him again.

Mac could feel his stomach twist in rage. This fuck was using Wyatt as a punching bag without even giving him a fair chance to defend himself. Crowe was a coward and violent one at that.

"Do not ignore me, Mr. Wyatt", Crowe hissed and placed the tip of the knife on Wyatt's chest, not pushing the tip in just yet. Their eyes met, and even through the grainy video Mac could see fire in Wyatt's eyes. He was still defiant, still very much full of energy and life. But for how much longer?

Wyatt looked angry. Now that he had lifted up his head, Mac could clearly see his bloodied cheek. It looked like it had almost been ripped in two; what the hell had Crowe done to him?

"Do your fucking best", Wyatt spat at Crowe and Crowe pushed the tip of the blade in. With a cry, Wyatt let his head drop onto the table and his body tensed visibly.

The cry got Reynold's attention. "What the hell is he doing to Wyatt?" she asked, anger in her voice. She couldn't take her eyes off the road as she drove, it was too bumpy and full of twists and turns, but Mac could see the pained expression on her face.

On the phone's screen, Crowe shoved the knife further in, getting Wyatt to cry out, before finally yanking the knife out. For a moment Mac felt relief - maybe Crowe was done with Wyatt - but then a smirk rose on Crowe's lips and Mac knew he was wrong. He was not done. Not by a long shot.

Crowe grabbed the knife a little better, turning his face to the camera. "I just want to say one thing, section 20. What is happening to your dear friend Wyatt now is just the beginning", he said, glancing at Wyatt and then sighing almost happily. "And I will get the rest of you."

Giving Wyatt no time to react, Crowe swirled around to face him and slammed the knife into his bare arm. Wyatt screamed in pain as the knife went fully through and blood spilled out from both ends. He trashed on the table but to no avail - his restraints held. He was completely at Crowe's mercy.

Wyatt's scream quickly died into gasps filled with agony and fear he was desperately trying to contain. Mac could see he was fighting to stay brave, but he could only imagine the pain his friend was feeling. Tears rolled down Wyatt's cheeks as he forced himself to quiet down, and Crowe didn't seem to mind. He grabbed the knife and yanked it out, tossing it onto the tray table before walking towards the camera with the freaky smile still on his lips.

"I mean it", Crowe said as his face filled the entire frame. A drop of Wyatt's blood glimmered on his cheek. "I will come for you. McAllister, Reynolds, Novin… All of you. And you won't see me come until it's too late. Just ask Wyatt here."

Crowe glanced over his shoulder to Wyatt. "Right?" he asked.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole", Wyatt spat, his voice breaking a little, and Crowe turned back to the camera.

"It seems he's not done for today", Crowe said and shrugged, grinning. "See you tomorrow, section 20. Keep your phones on. Who knows when I next decide to give you a little sneak peek at what I have in store for all of you?"

The video cut off and Mac gasped. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to contain his emotions, but he wanted nothing more than to find that piece of shit and bash his skull in. He'd made this personal by doing that to Wyatt, and Mac wouldn't give up until he paid for what he did.

The old factory stood in the distance. Reynolds was driving faster now, a determined look in her eyes as she tried to avoid most of the holes in the road. They both knew they had to hurry. If Crowe kept going, Wyatt didn't have long.


	3. Chapter 3

_An: Wow I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you like it!_

 _Warnings: Violence (duh)_

xxx

He had no idea what time it was, but he was tired. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Crowe had done his absolute best to silence Wyatt, to get him to beg for a break, to get him to break, but Wyatt hadn't given in. He had screamed and cried when the pain had gotten too bad, but he had always told Crowe to suck it. He had decided not to give in and he'd kept his mental promise. Whatever Crowe did to him, whatever he put Wyatt through, at least he knew that Crowe got nothing from it. No pleasure, nothing, and that was enough to keep Wyatt sane.

Finally Crowe had called it a night, told one of his men to tend to the wounds that bled the most and left, leaving Wyatt alone in the chilly basement. He was hungry, thirsty, and weak, but he knew that he couldn't give in to the temptation to fall asleep. This was his chance and he had to get out. He didn't know if he could endure another day of torture; he just didn't.

Come on, he thought to himself as he yanked at one of the zip ties. He had to get one arm free and the rest would be easy. He could reach the tray table, get a knife, and cut the rest of his limbs loose if he just got one arm free first.

He yanked again. The zip tie bit into his skin but he barely felt it, and so he yanked again and again. Each time it hurt more and more but he couldn't stop, because the pain he felt at that moment was nothing compared to what was going to happen to him if he didn't get free.

Crowe had made him a promise before leaving. The next morning he'd walk in and do something so horrifying Wyatt would beg for it to stop. After the whole talk about cutting off Wyatt's fingers and ears, Wyatt didn't really doubt Crowe's words, and that only made him more motivated.

Yanking at the zip tie once more, Wyatt let his arm fall back onto the table. It wasn't working, unless what he was trying to do was break his wrist.

"Fucking hell", he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. He needed to come up with something and fast. Morning could've been eight hours away or it might've been an hour away, but because he had no idea whatsoever, he needed to act like morning was coming fast.

Opening his eyes, Wyatt looked around himself. There was nothing within his reach to use, but the zip ties wouldn't break without a tool. Because of the ties around his ankles he couldn't even kick himself up a little and try to bite through the restraints. He was stuck there, liked he or not, and he needed to come up with something else.

And suddenly he got it. It might've not been the best plan in the history of humans, hell, it sucked even in the worst planner's standards, but it was something and if done right, he could pull it off. He just needed to focus and act.

He took in a deep breath, calmed himself down a little and then bit down on his tongue as hard as he could muster. It stung but it worked; immediately he tasted blood in his mouth as it flooded out of his sore tongue. Spitting some of it out on his chin, Wyatt was ready.

"Fuck!" he yelled as loud as he could and groaned, acting as if he was in the worst pain ever felt. "Somebody fucking come here, oh shit!"

The door to the room was swung open and one of the guards stepped in, an angered look on their face. "What're you screamin' for?" he barked as he approached Wyatt. Suddenly he saw the blood on Wyatt's chin and his eyes widened in shock. "What the hell's going on?"

"Do I look like I fucking know?" Wyatt spat, a little blood rising to his lips as he did. He arched his back, closing his eyes in agony. He held in a groan, hissing curses and insults, and finally gasped, opening his eyes wide.

The guard had moved to his side. He was hurriedly examining Wyatt for injuries, clearly afraid for Wyatt to die on his watch. They both knew Crowe didn't want Wyatt to die yet – he was too important to be wasted so quickly, especially after Crowe had told Section 20 he'd send more videos. Not sending said videos would be a clear indication that Wyatt was dead and Crowe would've lost his entire leverage and his whole plan to scare the team.

Leaning in close, the guard looked at Wyatt. "Where does it hurt?"

Wyatt only gasped. He shook his whole body lightly, pretending to be in some sort of small seizure while he whispered out "everywhere".

"What?" the guard said. He hadn't heard Wyatt – just as Wyatt had planned. He leaned closer, his ear now near Wyatt's face.

"There!" Wyatt suddenly yelled and threw his head up, biting down on the guard's ear. The guard cried out and leaned in closer, not yanking out in the fear of losing his ear, and came close enough to Wyatt for him to be able to grab the gun from his waist and pull the trigger.

It was pure luck that the gun was loaded and cocked. Wyatt let go of his ear as the bullet went straight through the guard's stomach and came out through the back, hitting the wall behind them. With a scream the guard fell to his knees and Wyatt turned the gun around, aiming it at the zip tie on his other hand.

He lifted up his head not to shoot himself by accident and aimed the best he could. Quickly he gave a little prayer, 'please, I don't want to shoot my own arm', and pulled the trigger again.

The bullet went through the zip tie and then the palm of his hand. Wyatt cried out and the gun fell from his hand as he instinctively reached his now free hand up to his chest, and froze for a moment before realizing what was going on. He had to move. Everyone within a mile radius had heard the gunshot, so he was in a rush.

He reached over to the tray table and grabbed its edge, pulling it near. He'd seen Crowe place the knife to the top drawer, so quickly he yanked that one open and pushed his arm in. The tray table was high enough to make Wyatt not see in, but in seconds he felt the edge of the knife under his bloodied fingers and pulled it out.

Voices echoed from the stairwell behind the door. Men were barking orders at each other as they ran for the basement, and Wyatt knew he had only seconds before he'd be attacked by at least a handful of them. It would've been a tough fight even with his full strength and bullet proof vest, so half naked and with only a fraction of his usual energy it would be impossible. The only way he had a chance was if we could jump the men, and for that he needed to be free.

The soldier he'd shot lay on the floor, coughing up blood and crying. Wyatt almost felt bad for him – almost.

Quickly he cut through the zip tie on his other wrist and then he sat up, leaning forward to free his legs. In seconds he was free, and he jumped off the table, grabbing the gun he'd dropped before pushing the table on its side and crouching behind it.

Wyatt checked the clip just as steps echoed from the stairwell. The gun had ten bullets left – more than enough for a few guys. He just needed to take them out before they reached him, because he never would've won a fist fight. Not in his condition.

Taking in a deep breath to calm down his nerves, he heard one of the men stop at the doorway and cry out; "he's escaped! Fuck!"

"Still here, asshole", Wyatt yelled as he got up from his cover and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the first man directly in the neck and he fell with a cry. The three men behind him yelled out something all at once and then fired, forcing Wyatt to quickly drop down again. None of the bullets pierced the table, and for the first time Wyatt was glad that the table was metallic. As cold as it was beneath his bare skin, it made for an excellent cover.

The firing stopped for a second and Wyatt took advantage of it. He fired, but only hit one of the men in the shoulder. He fell and then sat up, but before anyone could fire again, Wyatt pulled the trigger. He hit the same man, chest this time, and with a yell he collapsed on his back. The two still standing yelled something in foreign language, shooting again.

Dropping down, Wyatt leaned his back against the table. Bullets slammed into the metal, a noise so loud it hurt his ears. It was just two left now, and Wyatt knew they were growing desperate; and desperate meant dangerous and unpredictable. He needed to be ready for anything.

And then it fell silent, and suddenly something clinged against the floor next to Wyatt's bare feet. He only had time to quickly glance at it when the flash bang went off, a noise louder than any gun ringing off with flashing lights brighter than the sun temporarily blinding Wyatt.

Doubling, Wyatt threw his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, but too late. His ears rang and it felt like the floor was a wavy lake underneath his weight, just twisting and turning. He fell on his side, not able to stop himself, and grunted as he opened his eyes. He could see the outlines of everything in front of him, but like an oversaturated picture, there was no color, just bright, blinding white everywhere he looked.

Then there was a boot, then another. Wyatt turned his head up, seeing the bottom of the gun just before it was slammed over his nose.

Blood spurted out of his nose and he grunted, twisting away from the guard. He needed to act.

The colors were slowly returning, but he couldn't wait until his vision got normal again. Grabbing the man by the boot, Wyatt yanked as hard as he could, while simultaneously throwing himself up and grabbing the machine gun by the barrel. The guard fell back and caught himself, but the gun stayed in Wyatt's hands.

"Stop!" the second guard screamed, and Wyatt only now noticed him standing a few feet to the right, his own machine gun aimed at Wyatt's head.

Wyatt froze. The second guard only needed to move his finger and Wyatt would be dead.

Plan B.

"Okay", Wyatt said, tossing the gun to the side and lifting his arms wide open. He stared at the second guard, a man younger than himself. "Don't shoot. You got me."

"Good. Get up", the second guard barked as the other one picked up his gun, and Wyatt did as he was told. He sat up slower than was necessary in an attempt to look weaker than he was, and then climbed to his feet, never lowering his arms.

He glanced at the first guard, who still hadn't aimed his gun at Wyatt. Instead he was going through his pockets looking for something, probably handcuffs or whatever they meant to use to tie Wyatt down again.

"Go to the wall and face it", the second guard said. His glare was unwavering, but Wyatt could see he was scared, he just didn't know why. Probably because he knew Crowe would kill them all if they let Wyatt escape or die, but also that he needed to take the shot if it looked like Wyatt was about to get free. Whatever happened, Crowe would be pissed and would probably take it out on them.

Wyatt nodded. "Sure", he said, slowly starting to lower his arms. He had one shot at this. "But one thing first. What's your name, kid?"

The guard looked confused. "Nikolai", he said. "Now get to the wall or I-"

"Okay, Nikolai, here's the thing", Wyatt interrupted him. He could see Nikolai tense up. "I'm sorry, but you made a shitty choice joining Crowe's team."

Not giving the boy time to react, Wyatt lunged forward and grabbed the gun by the barrel, forcing it up so that when a second later Nikolai squeezed the trigger, the bullet slammed into the ceiling instead of Wyatt's face. Acting fast, Wyatt grabbed Nikolai by the side of his neck and yanked him forward, slamming his face into the edge of the table before letting him fall to the floor. He grabbed the gun, swirled around and fired three rounds into the other guard's chest before the poor fucker even had time to lift up his gun.

Nikolai groaned, lifting his head up, but Wyatt acted fast and sent his foot down on his face, knocking the kid right out. Then he stopped, leaned against the table for a second and just took in a deep breath.

Blood dripped from the hand he shot and his ears still rang, a noise so distant it was barely audible but yet a distracting one. He checked the clip and counted the ammo; 21 left. It needed to be enough. At least the place, whatever it was, seemed quiet, so he just hoped the worst was behind him.

He stood up and hurried for the door. Behind it a straight stairwell rose up to the ground floor, and quickly but quietly he made his way up. The wooden stairs creaked underneath his weight as he stopped at the top and, pointing the gun's barrel through first, stepped off.

He hadn't been far off thinking the basement looked end-of-the-worldish. The small room seemed more like a hunter's cottage than anything else, with thick wooden barrels serving as exterior walls and a creaky, wooden floor going from corner to corner. The walls were filled with dusty pictures of men with rifles holding a dead deer or some other sort of animal, and a deer head hung on top of the only door in the room.

But it was still silent, and Wyatt couldn't have been happier than he was in that moment.

With careful, steady steps he proceeded to the open doorway. The place was dim even with all the lights on, only adding to the creepy atmosphere. Dust particles lingered in the air, and Wyatt couldn't help but wonder who owned the place; it clearly had been abandoned some time ago.

The doorway opened into a much bigger, nicer room. There was a very basic kitchen in one corner, and a small dinner table for two. In the middle of the room there was a couch and two soft, even if dusty, armchairs, and in the midst of them all, a coffee table with a few unfinished mugs of coffee on top of it.

The most important part of the room, however, was the front door. Wasting no time, as it was clear now that there were no guards left inside the place, Wyatt rushed for the exit. He lowered his gun just a little, pressed himself against the wall – just in case there was somebody out there after all – and yanked open the door.

Nothing happened. No shots were fired, nobody suddenly bursted through the doorway, nobody threw in another flash bang. Only a few crickets played their song somewhere in the surrounding forest, and otherwise it was silent.

Wyatt peeked his head out. Quiet and dark, it seemed. Just the way he preferred it.

He stepped out of the cabin and closed the door behind him, taking a quick glance around himself. They certainly were in the middle of the woods, but the darkness swallowed everything further than ten yards away. The dim light inside the house illuminated the yard just enough for Wyatt to make out a path, one barely wide enough for a car, heading into the darkness of the forest. He just needed to follow it and eventually he'd get somewhere, right?

Jogging for the treeline, Wyatt kept his head low and forced himself to focus on getting back to his team. How he'd catch Crowe, the asshole who'd done this to him, and how he'd have a beer or maybe three with Mac and make him get the bill just because he could. How after that he'd sleep for two days straight and forget this ever happened-

"Hey!"

Wyatt swirled around, gun ready, but Grimsbane was faster. He only saw the flare of the gun before the bullet already hit him in the thigh, and with a cry he fell down to one knee as burning, hot pain made him close his eyes and grasp at his leg in the hopes of easing the pain, if even a little.

"Don't you raise that weapon or the next one'll be in your brains", Grimsbane yelled, approaching Wyatt – fast. "Toss it away, now!"

For half a second Wyatt considered actually lifting up his gun and putting a bullet through Grimsbane's head, but he knew better. Survival was a weird thing; getting tortured was nobody's dream, but yet, when it either came to death or days and days of indescribable suffering, everyone still chose the torture. Everyone wanted to at least have a chance. And Wyatt was just like everyone else. He didn't want to die, not yet.

"Okay", Wyatt replied, glaring at Grimsbane, his voice threatening to break. "I'm putting the weapon down. Don't fucking shoot me."

"Yeah, you'd deserve it, wouldn't you?" Grimsbane asked. There was fury in his dark eyes, and as Wyatt tossed the gun away, he wasted no time stepping close and pushing Wyatt over to his back. "Stay the fuck down, or I swear to God, you will regret it."

Wyatt groaned, drawing in a deep breath. It was, once again, his luck Crowe wanted to use him as an example. Grimsbane wasn't allowed to shoot to kill unless absolutely necessary.

"Crowe's on his way back. You fucking idiot, you have any idea how much harder you've just made this on yourself? Oh, Crowe's gonna love dealing with you once he gets here. Just wait. You'll see."

xxx

Wyatt hissed, letting his head fall back in pain as he tried to breathe through the pain. He'd been secured to one of the chairs around the dinner table with his wrists handcuffed together behind his back and his ankles duct taped to the legs of the chair. Grimsbane was crouching in front of him, muttering swears to himself as he used a couple of tweezers to try and remove the bullet.

"Just get it out already", Wyatt snapped and grunted as Grimsbane did something and yet another flare of pain shot up his thigh. "The fuck's taking you so fucking long?"

"Be thankful I'm even trying to get it out", Grimsbane replied and lifted his gaze up, glaring at Wyatt with a murderously cold look in his eyes. "After what you did to all those good men, you deserve a lot worse than this. I should pick your fucking eyes out."

Wyatt scoffed. He wasn't even afraid anymore, no, all he felt was disgust as he looked at Grimsbane. He was certain that was going to change the second Crowe walked in, but right then and there, all Wyatt could think about was kicking Grimsbane's teeth in. "Go ahead. Let's see who dies first. Me or you, when Crowe finds out you denied him the pleasure."

Shoving the tweezers in a little deeper, Grimsbane smiled as Wyatt tensed and cried out, the pain momentarily taking over all his other senses. As Grimsbane yanked the tweezers out, getting the bullet out with them, Wyatt relaxed, gasping for air. "You fucking-"

"Keep on talking, Wyatt. See if that helps", Grimsbane interrupted, standing up. He tossed the bloody bullet onto the floor as he walked towards the kitchen sink.

The front door was practically kicked open and Crowe, fuming of anger, stepped in. "What the hell happened here?"

Wyatt glanced at Crowe and their eyes met. "Welcome to the party. You really got to hire better men than this, Crowe", Wyatt said, knowing full well that annoying Crowe wasn't going to do him any good, but it wasn't like Crowe could hurt him any worse than he probably already had planned anyways. "I took out the guards like nothing and the only way that asshole could stop me was by nearly severing my artery. I thought you wanted me alive."

"Don't push your luck", Grimsbane warned from the kitchen. He'd tossed the tweezers into the sink and opened the tap, cleaning them.

"Oh, shut your mouth", Crowe snapped, turning to glare at Grimsbane. "I gave you one fucking order. Keep him alive and do not let him escape. You nearly failed both. Where the hell were you?"

Grimsbane's arrogant expression quickly faded away as he lowered his gaze. He knew fully well that Crowe was not a man he should defy. "I had to buy some cigarettes, sir. I was gone for five minutes."

Five minutes was all it took for Grimsbane to buy cigarettes? Obviously they were closer to the city than Wyatt had anticipated. It was simply great news, but Wyatt didn't allow himself to get excited. He was still tied up, but now with a hole in his leg that would make running nearly impossible. And he bet that Crowe wouldn't let him out of his sight, not after tonight. It just got considerably harder for Wyatt to escape, and if he was being honest, he didn't know how he would be able to pull it off again.

"Cigarettes!" Crowe repeated. His stare was icy and filled with barely contained anger.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"You should be. Any survivors?"

"Nikolai. I sent him home."

Crowe turned to look at Wyatt. "You killed three good men", he said, his voice low and threatening as he slowly approached Wyatt. "Men just doing their job. Men with families who will mourn for them for weeks, months. Even years. And you just… killed them."

A sting of guilt hit his heart. Wyatt knew what he'd done was only for self defense, and that it had either been him or them, but he had never enjoyed killing. Nobody sane did, but you couldn't work in this line of work if you didn't find a way to cope with all the killing. For Wyatt it was forcing himself not to think of these people as… people. Forcing himself to focus on their crimes, on all the people they had hurt and would continue to hurt, and forget that they had families, hopes, dreams, and fears.

Pushing all that down, Wyatt eyed Crowe like he didn't care. "It was either me or them. I did what I had to."

"And got yourself shot in the process. Twice, I see", Crowe said, his eyes going down from his hand to his thigh.

"I shot myself in the hand. Those men downstairs barely got a punch in", Wyatt replied with a fake arrogant grin.

Crowe smirked. His stare was piercing, as if he saw right through Wyatt's skin and right into his soul. Wyatt had never felt so vulnerable before, and that unpleasant feeling sent cold shivers down Wyatt's back. Whatever the torture before had been, it was nothing compared to what was about to come.

"Get used to the pain", Crowe finally said, leaning in close. Wyatt felt his breath on his cheek before Crowe leaned back just a little and grabbed Wyatt by the wound on his arm. He pushed his nails in, drawing out blood, and Wyatt bit down on his lower lip not to cry out of the sudden pain. Crowe smiled when Wyatt threw his head back and closed his eyes as Crowe dug his fingers in a little deeper, and finally Wyatt couldn't hold in a grunt.

Drawing in a shaky gasp to fight through the flaring pain, Wyatt suddenly realised he couldn't go on like this; he was sick of the pain and he was sick of the fear. He couldn't help the pain, but he could definitely fight the fear. And so he raised his head and glared at Crowe, tears forming in his eyes as sudden wave of anger washed through him. "Just fucking do whatever you want! I'm done with you, and I'm done with your fucking games, Crowe. You want to torture me? Kill me? Go on ahead, see if I fucking care!"

A smile that Wyatt couldn't really identify creeped on Crowe's face as he let go of Wyatt's arm. It was scary and cold, but at the same time oddly pleased. Just the exact opposite Wyatt had thought Crowe's reaction would be.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that", Crowe said, standing back and crossing his arms across his chest. "It's going to make it so much more amazing for your friends to watch you suffer. They'll see me break you. Break your spirit. And trust me, Wyatt, when I'm done with you, you'll beg me to end it."

Crowe slapped his hands together, turning to see Grimsbane. "Get the camera and set it up. I want to broadcast live this time. Can you do that or do you maybe want to go for another cigarette run?"

"I'll get the camera", Grimsbane grunted, obviously not loving what Crowe had said.

"Good. And one more request, can we broadcast it so we know who's watching?"

xxx

"From the info you found on the phone, Jensen was able to put together some sort time table", Novin explained, leaning on the table on her elbows.

Jensen, sitting next to her with his laptop open, nodded and typed something in. "I searched the call logs and where the calls came from. I was able to narrow the search to eight possible locations, out of which four are more likely than the others. Based on the pictures from the video anyways."

Mac nodded. He'd found a phone on one of the men he'd killed, and it had proven way more useful than anticipated.

"So four locations to search", Reynold continued, glancing at everyone at time. "How are we going to do this?"

"The locations are all pretty close to each other. Two cabins only five miles apart, then an old school ten miles out, and an abandoned gas station three miles further. These are the red dots", Jensen continued, turning his laptop over. He had pulled up a map on the screen, with red dots resembling each important place. Among them there were four black dots as well, scattered further along the map. "The black ones are the secondary locations. One cabin, an unfinished construction site, another gas station, and a house."

Donovan looked pleased and worried at the same time, a weird mix only she was capable of pulling off. "Teams of two. Jensen and Novin, you check out the two cabins. Mac and Reynolds, you take the gas station and the school. If nothing turns up, proceed to the secondary ones."

Mac nodded. He agreed with Donovan, teams of two saved a lot of time - time Wyatt didn't have - without compromising anyone's safety unnecessarily much. As much as Mac wanted to find Wyatt, he wasn't going to let any of the others get caught. Crowe and his men weren't to be underestimated, that much was now clear.

"Let's gear up, then", Reynolds said and stood up from her chair, the rest of the team following her lead, when suddenly Mac's phone beeped.

He stopped as the others slowly headed for the other rooms to get their gear, and opened the text he'd received.

"We are hosting a private show you'll want to see. Don't tell anyone or Wyatt will suffer. You have two minutes to find somewhere nobody will disturb you."

It was definitely Crowe, there was no doubt. Mac checked the number and noticed he didn't recognize it, which made sense, since the last number he'd texted from had turned out to belong to an untraceable burner. But what the hell was Crowe talking about? He wasn't going to extort Mac into doing anything, was he? It sounded worrying, and for a moment he considered stopping his teammates and letting them in on the message, but something made him stay right where he was. He couldn't risk Wyatt's life like that.

"Mac?" Reynolds called out from the other side of the room where she'd stopped to wonder where Mac had gone. "You coming?"

He had one and a half minutes left. With a reassuring little smile he turned to Reynolds and gave her a nod. "I'll catch up with you. Gotta take a piss first."

"Just don't take too long", Reynolds said and turned to leave.

With a sigh, Mac shook his head and then hurried for the bathroom door. It was connected to a bigger shower and a small room made for putting on clothes, which meant nobody could hear him from out here, even if he talked out loud. He needed to find out what was going on.

He closed all the doors behind himself and made sure to lock the changing room door before sitting down on the small bench. He stared at his phone, not sure what he was waiting for, but knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. Not for Wyatt, at least.

Seconds ticked by and suddenly another message popped up. "Ready?" it said, and then the phone rang. A video call, Mac realised, as he saw his own face pop up in a small box in the corner of the screen.

He clicked on the green 'accept' button and the call opened, but the screen, where usually the caller's face was, remained black, like something was covering the camera of the phone.

"What do you want?" Mac asked strictly. He still wasn't sure what the hell was going on. All he could hear was heavy breathing. "I know it's you, Crowe. I'm alone. Just tell me what the hell do you want."

"Prove it", Crowe's voice came through the speaker, and Mac groaned silently. "Show me you're really alone and then we can talk."

Turning his phone around so Crowe could see the room he was in, Mac drew in a deep breath. "There. Now what the fuck do you want from me?" he asked as he focused the camera back on himself.

"Some ground rules first, if you don't mind", Crowe said. The screen was still black. "First, you don't end the call at any point. Two, you're going to sit still and not move from that room while we talk. Three, nobody can come in and interrupt us. Do you understand, McAllister?"

Mac swore under his breath but knew he had no other choice. This maniac had Wyatt. "Yes", he answered bluntly. It was hard controlling his rising anger, but he was trying his best. He didn't want Crowe to hurt Wyatt, least of all because his own thoughtlessness. He had already gotten one team killed; he wasn't going to lose another one ever again. Not in the arms of a crazy madman anyways.

"Good", Crowe said and finally whatever was blocking the camera was moved.

In front of the camera stood Crowe, a sneaky smirk on his thin face. Behind him, slightly to the left, was Wyatt, tied to a chair in a kitchen, breathing heavy. Mac's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his friend; he looked even worse now than on the video Mac had seen not five hours earlier. Bruises ran across his torso like burn marks, and there were a good few wounds more. But what came as a surprise to Mac was that Wyatt didn't look to be in pain - no, he looked absolutely furious with furrowed eyebrows and narrow eyes.

"Here is the deal, McAllister", Crowe continued when Mac said nothing. The shock of seeing Wyatt was too much and he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. "You're going to do exactly as I say or Wyatt here pays the price. Deal?" he said, walking to Wyatt.

Wyatt glanced at the camera, his expression suddenly softening, as if he only now realized what was going on. He furiously shook his head. "Mac, no. Don't fucking do anything he-"

He was silenced by a tough punch across his injured cheek that looked like it had been strong enough to fracture the bone. With a grunt Wyatt's head snapped to the side and stayed there for a bit ad Wyatt closed his eyes and probably concentrated on not giving into the pain.

"Don't fucking touch him, you piece of shit", Mac threatened as he felt his blood boil in his veins. He hadn't felt this kind of hatred in a long time, not since the day his old team was slaughtered. It the same kind of desperation of not being able to do anything that manifested itself in anger and fury. It was a way to cope, a way to keep going when all the odds seemed stacked against you.

"Do we have a deal?" Crowe repeated calmly while stretching out his fingers and knuckles a little. Seemed like the punch had hurt him, too - but it was nothing compared to what Mac would do to him when he got his hands on the bastard.

"We'll see", Mac simply said. Even he had his limits. Even when it came to Wyatt. He couldn't promise anything. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Nothing much", Crowe said with a pleased, but a soulless, cold smile. He turned his head to Wyatt and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his chin up. "Just that you leave your phone on the nearest table or chair, leave your guns right next to it, and get your ass here."

Mac snorted. Crowe wasn't fucking serious, was he?

"Don't do it. I'm telling you, don't fucking—" Wyatt started, but Crowe shut him up by pulling on his hair painfully hard, twisting his head as back as it went without his neck snapping.

"I told you to be quiet", Crowe said and with his free hand he reached into his jeans' pocket. Slowly he pulled something out.

Mac stared wide-eyed in horror as he saw the heavy pliers in Crowe's hand. "Crowe, you fucking bastard. Don't", he threatened, knowing full well there was nothing he could do to stop him as he slowly brought the pliers closer to Wyatt. "I fucking mean it! I'm gonna kill you, you hear me?" Mac screamed into the phone, desperate now, but Crowe simply ignored him.

"This is what happens when you disobey me", Crowe said calmly and grinned. "Open wide."


	4. Chapter 4

_An: Thank you for the lovely reviews! But without further ado, let's get on this._

xxx

The blood mixed with the spit in his mouth, and all he could taste was the disgusting iron. His head lolled on his chest, too tired to lift it up, and silently he tried to fight through the nausea and the clouds filling his head. It was hard to concentrate. Maybe Crowe had hit him once too much.

"As you can see", Crowe's voice broke into his ears and Wyatt was grabbed by the hair before his head was forced up. He opened his eyes, and a blurry view of Grimsbane holding a camera connected to a laptop opened up. Mac's face filled the screen. "I'm not fucking around, McAllister."

"Just leave him the fuck alone", Mac hissed, his voice barely comprehensible as it echoed through the crappy speakers of the old laptop. "I'll do what you asked. Just don't fucking touch him."

Wyatt let his eyes fall shut. He had zoned out for a while there, when the pain had gotten too much to handle fully awake. He had no idea what Mac was talking about, but right in that moment, he was too exhausted to care. He wanted to fight back, but couldn't. He just… couldn't.

Crowe smirked, releasing Wyatt with a little shove. "Good. And I promise to not touch him."

Opening his eyes, Wyatt forced his head up. He looked at Crowe and then at Mac, not really feeling anything in the moment. He just wanted out.

He felt as if his and Mac's eyes met, and for a second they just stared at each other, like a silent communication. Neither said anything; Mac probably too afraid that talking to Wyatt would get him hurt, and Wyatt just unable to find words to say. There was nothing he could say that would make the situation better, only worse, for both Mac and himself.

"Tomorrow at noon", Crowe said with a cold stare before turning his head to Wyatt. "Right, Wyatt? Noon is going to be a special hour unless your buddy does what's right."

"Fuck you", Wyatt muttered, barely louder than a whisper. He turned to look at Crowe, a tired, yet defiant look on his face. He wasn't giving up, just retreating. Whatever it took to survive. Even though he had no idea what it was they were talking about, knowing Crowe, it was nothing good.

Mac looked as if he was fighting an urge to toss himself through the screen and kill Crowe with his bare hands, but somehow managed to ignore his first instinct and do as he knew was best; play along. And so he cleared his throat before talking. "Crowe. Let me speak to him. Make sure he's not dying."

"Why?" Crowe asked, snapping his head back to Mac's direction.

"So I can make sure you're not bullshitting me. I'm not doing shit for you if it turns out he dies anyways, no way", Mac insisted, the look in his eyes cold. "Just me and him. One minute."

Crowe burst out laughing. "One minute? You're not in the position to make any requests, McAllister. You really want to see where my limits are?"

"And if you want me to do anything for you, you're going to let me talk to him."

"Oh, you want to make sure he's not dying?" Crowe asked, something changing in his eyes. And with that, Crowe spun around and punched Wyatt.

Wyatt grunted, his head snapping to the side from the strength of the impact, and a familiar stinging pain flared in his cheek as he bit down on his lower lip not to groan.

"He's gonna be dying alright if you don't stop barking orders at me", Crowe screamed as he turned back to Mac.

"Don't fucking touch him, you hear me?" Mac yelled from the other end of the video call, obviously ignoring Crowe's threat. "If you want me to do anything for you, take a fucking step back and let us talk", he continued, his eyes turning to Wyatt. "You okay?"

"I'm okay", Wyatt muttered, lifting his head back up. The truth was that he wasn't, and they all knew it. He was missing two teeth that Crowe had swiftly yanked out, and probably one fourth of his blood, but he had to suck it up and act like everything was okay. Not just for Mac, but for himself, too. He couldn't give up.

Glaring at Wyatt, Crowe fell silent. He eyed the face he'd covered in Wyatt's own blood, the bruises across his cheeks and jaw, the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth; something that Crowe probably thought of as a piece of art or an achievement.

"Fine", Crowe finally said, looking back at Mac. "I'm feeling generous today. Thirty seconds, just you and him."

"Good", Mac replied.

Crowe looked at Grimsbane with a displeased look on his face, but even for him, a promise was a promise. "Put the camera somewhere so they can see each other. Quick now."

Doing as he was told, Grimsbane grabbed the other kitchen chair and pulled it near Wyatt, lowering the camera on the arm rest before exiting the room behind his boss, leaving Wyatt and Mac alone.

Mac sighed. "I'm so fucking sorry, Wyatt", he said, shaking his head a little as he lowered his gaze for a second. "If I'd known they'd do this, I would've-"

"Don't", Wyatt interrupted him. Talking stung his jaw, an uncomfortable feeling, but he ignored it. "Just listen to me. He's getting paid to kill the whole team. I don't know what it is he needs you to do, but it's all a plot to get to you guys."

Mac nodded, obviously pushing aside his emotions to give space for his training. They didn't have time to cry. They needed to act. "You know where you are?"

"No. It's a small hunting cabin in the middle of the forest. Apparently five minutes from some sort of shop or a gas station", Wyatt explained. They still had a few seconds before Crowe would return. "Just get me the hell outta here, Mac. I can't—"

The front door was flung open, making Wyatt involuntarily flinch, as Crowe and Grimsbane stepped in again. Wyatt glanced at them and then turned his head back to the laptop.

"Just hang in there", Mac said quickly. "I'm gonna get you out."

Wyatt nodded. He didn't doubt it for a second; he just really hoped Mac and the rest of the team were able to come and get him before Crowe decided to put a bullet through his brain.

"Good thirty seconds, huh? Now, McAllister", Crowe said as he walked to the camera and picked it up, filming himself. "You know what you need to do. Get everyone off our backs or the bomb goes off. You don't want the lives of tens of children on your hands, do you now?"

Mac looked like he was ready to rip that asshole's throat out, but calmed himself as Wyatt did the exact opposite - a bomb? Children? What the hell was going on? Was Crowe blackmailing Mac to get him to tell the others, what? That Wyatt was dead and there was no use going after Crowe again?

Did Crowe really believe Section 20 would believe those lies?

"There won't be a bomb going off", Mac hissed. "I'll do what you asked me to. Just don't fucking kill anyone, and don't touch him."

A sick smile rose on Crowe's thin lips as he eyed Mac, still holding the camera right in front of his nose. "Oh, I won't touch him, I promise."

xxx

Mac pocketed his phone as he shot up from the bench and headed for the door. The deal was obviously a plan of some sorts to get to Section 20, he'd realized that the second Crowe had proposed it, but Mac was certain the bomb wasn't a joke. And even if it was, he wouldn't risk it.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the hall. Novin was standing by the table, arms crossed in front of her chest, looking pissed as she noticed Mac.

"You decide to take a quick shower?" Novin asked as Mac approached her. "We've got to move, Mac. What the hell were you doing in there?"

Images of Wyatt flashed through Mac's head. Crowe yanking out his tooth. Punching him. Cutting him. He forced them out, shaking his head to Novin. "I was talking with Wyatt. Where's everybody?"

Novin's eyes widened and she let her arms fall down as Mac passed her, about to go search for the rest himself. She jogged after him. "What do you mean, talking with Wyatt? Did he call you?"

"Yeah", Mac simply said as he headed for the locker rooms Novin beside him. His plan had to work. If little lies were what it took to save tens of innocent children and hopefully Wyatt, he wouldn't hesitate to do it. "Where is everybody? We need to have a talk."

Mac found Reynolds from the locker room and Novin jogged off to haul Jensen and Donovan in from wherever they had disappeared off to, and in a couple of minutes they were all standing around the biggest table again.

"You talked with Wyatt?" Donovan asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at Mac. "How did that happen?"

"Crowe made him speak on the phone", Mac said. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was aiding a wanted criminal, and that he could be held partially responsible if Crowe ended up doing something horrible before Mac had time to locate him. "Felt like Crowe was using him to get his message across. Wyatt told me they were heading away and that we'd never find 'em again. That Crowe's not planning a new strike but just wants to live as a free man and Wyatt is his ticket to getting to safety. Said Crowe's gonna kill him if we go near."

Jensen's face twisted in a mix of fear and disgust. "So what are we going to do?" he asked.

"He's gotta be lying about the strike", Reynolds said. There was anger on her face, but she was trying to contain it. "Why would he suddenly just want to fall under the radar and start a new life as a honest man? He's not that kind of guy and we know it."

"You're right", Novin said, shooting a glance at Reynolds. "He's lying to us. But why?"

Donovan looked at Mac, her eyes narrowing a little in suspicion. "Did Wyatt say anything else?"

"Yes", Mac said. He had to get this right. "He told me that there was a bomb somewhere, and if Crowe thought we were going after them, they'd set off the bomb, killing tens of children."

Mac saw horror rise on everyone's face and they all opened their mouths to speak at once, but Novin was first, silencing the others. "He's willing to kill a bunch of kids just to get away?"

"Are you sure he said children?" Donovan asked, and Mac nodded. She then turned to Jensen, who had already whipped out his laptop. "Pull up every place that fits. Places were tens of children stay at once. Orphanages, safe houses, playgrounds."

Jensen nodded and got to work as Reynolds shifted her gaze to Mac. There was anger in her eyes, and Mac couldn't blame her. He felt the same. "We need to catch this psycho", she said.

"First, the bomb. Then we go after Crowe and Wyatt", Donovan pointed out, turning back to Mac. "Can you call them back?"

"No. Already tried after the call cut off. They'd turned it off or destroyed the phone", Mac explained.

Jensen cleared his throat as a sign he was ready to talk, and all of the others turned to look at him. "I have three possible places the bomb could be, assuming Crowe wasn't lying about the children. Two orphanages and a children's hospital. All three have tens of children residing there around the clock."

Donovan nodded. "Jensen and Novin, you two check out the hospital. There's a lot of ground to cover so split up and be quick. Mac and Reynolds, you both take one of the orphanages. Stay undetected and find the bomb."

xxx

Grimsbane lifted the cup up and brought it to Wyatt's lips, tilting it a little to give Wyatt a sip of water without making him cough and suffocate on it. As embarrassed as Wyatt was to accept water from the guy who had thrown him out a window less than a day ago, he was way too thirsty to refuse.

As Grimsbane pulled back the cup, Wyatt sighed. Much better.

"Don't get used to it", Grimsbane muttered as he headed for the sink to throw out the rest of the water. He disappeared from Wyatt's line of sight as the kitchen was behind his back. "Crowe told me to keep you alive. I don't want you to pass out on me, 'cause if Crowe sees that…"

Wyatt couldn't help a grimace. He'd never hated anyone as much as Crowe, but Grimsbane was a very close second. "Yeah, sucks working for a fucking nutjob, right? But I guess people prefer the company of similar people."

The grunt from Grimsbane's direction told Wyatt he hadn't enjoyed the little joke. "Yeah, you keep on joking. Because I will be the one who ends your life when the time comes", Grimsbane said and suddenly slapped his hands on Wyatt's shoulders from the behind, making Wyatt flinch. He hadn't heard Grimsbane approaching. "And the more you talk, the slower I'll go."

Not pushing his luck, Wyatt kept quiet. He wasn't looking forward to getting punched again, because his jaw was already painful as it was. He hadn't seen himself since the whole thing started, but he had a pretty clear idea of what was causing the pain in his cheek and jaw. First getting repeatedly stabbed through the cheek, and then getting punched around like a human punching bag did cause some pain.

Grimsbane let go and circled back in front of Wyatt, sitting down onto the chair he'd used as a tripod a little bit earlier. He leaned in, smirking as he eyed Wyatt. "So, what'd you and your dear Mac talk about, hm? You warn him about the plan?"

"No, we just talked about the weather. It's been pretty, hasn't it?" Wyatt replied and grinned himself, never taking his eyes off Grimsbane. He was feeling a lot better now than before, but he knew that that was mostly thanks of staying still for some time. One step and he would take a nose-dive onto the floor, he was sure of it.

"You really like being a smartass", Grimsbane said, leaning back in the chair. "How'd you survive this long?"

"Skills. Something you wouldn't know about."

"Oh, did I or did I not easily throw you out a window?"

"Sure, but I would've gotten away if it wasn't for your friends", Wyatt said. He didn't like reminiscing or thinking about the mistakes he'd done in life, but if there was one thing he would change, it'd be deciding to bash in Grimsbane's skull. That recklessness had gotten him stabbed, cut, beaten, and shot. If he could turn back time to the moment he fell from that window, he'd simply cut his losses, warn Mac, and get the hell out of there.

Grimsbane grinned and nodded, lowering his gaze as he sighed. "I'm definitely disappointed you're working for Section 20. We would make one hell of a team, Wyatt", he said and looked up at Wyatt. He was surprised to see honesty in Grimsbane's stare - he actually meant what he said.

Wyatt snorted. What the hell was this guy babbling on about? The two of them, a team? Never. "Well, what can I say? I've always been more into saving lives than taking them and saving the world instead of destroying it. You know, not being a dick to the whole humanity."

"And the joking never stops", Grimsbane said, standing up from the chair. "I meant what I said. Keep talking and I'll make sure your death is slow and very, very painful."

As Grimsbane walked off, Wyatt sighed and let himself relax a little. He had no doubt Grimsbane meant his words, and that actually scared him. He didn't want to die, and the worst part was that he couldn't do anything to stop it. He'd failed his only chance to get out, and now it all depended on his team.

xxx

Mac jogged towards the beautiful orphanage in front of him. It rose tall and great, like it was from a film set in the 40's. Huge, beautifully carved pillars stood on both sides of the entrance, a pair of heavy wooden doors with an old-school golden knocker in the middle of the other door. The windows were tall, allowing Mac to see inside as he neared the building. He could see children of all ages on both floors, and the thought of them dying amidst tons of burning rubble from an explosion sent cold chills down Mac's back. He couldn't let that happen, but he needed to be quick.

He only had so much time before noon - only seven hours - and he still had to make sure the bomb was located and safely defused, then find out where Wyatt was, and drag his ass back. Crowe had told Mac to lie to his team to get them to stop looking for Crowe, but Mac had known that to be an impossible task, and this had been the second best option. Telling his team about the bomb had given Mac the solitude he needed to go and track Wyatt down on his own. He knew that if Donovan knew what Mac did, she'd send all the available resources after Crowe, to hell with Wyatt.

To her, Wyatt was an expendable soldier and all that mattered was catching Crowe, and so she wouldn't hesitate to drop a drone on them - that had been proven once earlier. And Mac couldn't allow her to do that. After seeing and talking to Wyatt, he now wanted to find him more than ever. Wyatt had been tortured right in front of him and there had been nothing Mac could do to stop it. He'd already lost one team - he wouldn't lose Wyatt, because this time he refused to be helpless. He refused to just watch from the sidelines as his friend got slaughtered. He needed to act, to hell with consequences.

But the problem was that the bomb wasn't the only threat Crowe had made.

If Crowe thought someone was coming after them, he'd detonate the bomb and cut off Wyatt's finger. Then another and another until there were no more to cut off. And then he'd move on to the toes.

If by noon - so seven hours later, Mac reminded himself again - Mac hadn't showed Crowe proof of Section 20 stepping down and letting Crowe be, he would detonate the bomb and then go on with cutting off Wyatt's fingers and toes.

Crowe was serious about getting Section 20 off his back, but whatever long con he was trying to pull, it would fail.

Mac would make sure of it.

He slowed down and walked up the few stairs to the door and grabbed the knocker, banging on the door a few times. Donovan had been right - he needed to be discrete. If this happened to be the place, some of Crowe's men might have been watching the place. He couldn't warn the employees about the bomb, because the kids would run out and that would definitely alarm any guy keeping an eye on the place.

The door was opened by a woman in her mid thirties. She looked confused for a moment as she stared at Mac, but then the look was replaced by a relieved smile. She said something in her native language and fell quiet, as if she was waiting for a reply.

"Sorry", Mac said. "I only speak english."

"Oh, that's alright", the woman said with a slight accent and smiled. "You must be the electrician! We've been waiting for you all day. Come on in", she said, stepping aside to let Mac walk in.

Taking advantage of the situation, Mac smiled politely, nodding his head as he walked in. "Yes. I'm sorry it took so long, there have been some hellish customers today. My name's Bill."

The woman closed the door behind Mac. "No, don't worry about it. The kids have been going crazy without the electricity but it's a beautiful day and there's plenty of light through the windows. About the time they did something else than played all day on their playstations and phones. I'm Mari. Follow me."

They walked through a huge lobby with a high ceiling. The place was a lot more homely on the inside than it had looked on the outside, with a soft carpeted floor and toys all over the place. Eleven or twelve kids between the ages of six and fifteen hung out on the floor and on the many couches, drawing, reading, playing with little toys, or playing catch. There were two huge tv's mounted on the walls, the other on the opposite side from the other, and a long shelf full of books on one wall.

They exited the room and came to a long hallway with stairwell leading upstairs as well as to the basement. They stopped at the top of the other stairwell, and Mari turned to Mac. "The fuse box should be in the basement, as well as all the other gadgets. I don't really know anything about this. If you need something else, just find me or anyone else of the adults, or feel free to look around yourself. Just don't give the children any sweets", she explained and then smiled. "Some of them have severe allergies, and if one gets sweets then all have to get sweets, you know?"

Mac nodded reassuringly. "I know, thank you. I'll see what I can do."

Mari looked pleased and left with a nod as Mac headed towards the basement, thinking it to be the first place to start looking for the bomb.

xxx

He'd gone through the basement and most of the first floor and found nothing when suddenly his earpiece came to life and Jensen's voice echoed into his ear. "I found the bomb."

Sighing in relief, Mac checked the time. He'd wasted nearly half an hour here, and now he only had six and a half hours before Crowe would start cutting off limbs - maybe even more when he discovered the bomb had been disabled. Who knew what he might do in his anger? Wyatt was in serious danger, and Mac had to move.

He was jogging for the exit when Mari's voice called out his fake name. "Bill?" she asked. "Are you done already?"

Mac stopped, turning around to face her. He put on a shocked, scared face that he didn't actually need to fake all that much. "No, I'm afraid not. My wife just called me and there's a family emergency. I'll send someone else to come check your electricity, okay? I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"I understand", Mari said. "I hope every-"

"Thanks", Mac interrupted her and hurried out, not hearing her finish her sentence.

Just as he reached outside, his earpiece crackled again shortly and Donovan's voice echoed through. "Jensen is disabling the bomb. Get back to the base."

Mac grimaced, tapping on his earpiece so he could speak to Donovan as well. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"What is going on?" Donovan asked. Her voice wasn't amused - she was demanding an answer.

"You need to trust me on this", he said. "The rest of you focus on finding Crowe. I need to deal with something."

Donovan sighed, disapproving. "What is more important than finding Crowe?"

"Trust me, ma'am", Mac repeated himself. "I'll see you tonight, okay? Something came up and I need to be there."

"Fine", Donovan finally said. "Go do your thing, but if I need you, you come back the second, you hear me?"

"Of course", Mac replied and then turned off his earpiece. He reached his car and sat in, pulling the laptop from the shotgun seat onto his lap. Jensen might've been the computer wizard of the team, but Mac wasn't half bad either, and he knew how to run a simple search.

Typing in the things Wyatt had mentioned - a hunting cabin in a forest but near a market of some kind - Mac hit enter and let the software do its magic. It quickly narrowed down the search to eleven individual small cottages, but it was still too much for Mac to cover on his own.

He opened up a list of information on each cabin, looking for something that could tell him where Wyatt was being held, and after fifteen minutes he had been able to narrow down the search to five cabins.

Six hours and thirteen minutes left.

Going through the last five cabins, he couldn't narrow it down any more, because the info he had on each was identical. Each cabin was owned by someone who lived further away and wasn't currently on a vacation, aka the cabin was empty. Each cabin was within a seven minute walk to a gas station or a little shop, and each cabin had been built more than ten years ago.

Five cabins could've been possible for him to go through if they'd been near each other - but the furthest two cabins were almost three hours apart from each other and there was no way he could visit every single one until the time ran out.

He needed help.


	5. Chapter 5

_An: okay, this chapter is officially dedicated to shayma - thanks for being so awesome!_

 _And just so you know, this was supposed to be the final chapter but uhhh I got a little carried away so in the end, the chapter was almost 10k long. So I made the decision to cut it in half. This one is a bit shorter than the next one, but so yeah, there's still one more coming!_

 _But without babbling on for too long, here we go. Hope you like this chapter!_

 _Warning: Violence, swearing._

xxx

Wyatt bit down on his lip to keep himself from grunting as Grimsbane poked around the gunshot wound on his thigh, apparently changing the blood-soaked bandage, but to Wyatt, it felt more like he was purposefully poking around and the wound to cause some pain. As if Wyatt hadn't felt enough of that in the last day or so.

"Goddamnit", Wyatt finally exhaled as Grimsbane tightened the clean bandage around his thigh unnecessarily hard and fast, a wave of pain shooting up his thigh. He tensed up, drawing in a deep breath. "Can you just-"

His sentence was cut short as Grimsbane tightened the bandage some more. He then patted the wound, stood up, and looked down on the gasping Wyatt. "You were saying something?"

Wyatt chuckled through the pain, for the millionth time imagining how he'd enjoy putting a bullet in Grimsbane for a little payback. It was a surprisingly soothing thought; the second he got free from that damn chair and got a hold of a gun, he'd put one round right in the prick's thigh and see how he liked it. "Fuck you."

Not bothering to reply, Grimsbane tossed the bloody bandage on the floor and then sat down on his chair opposite from Wyatt. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest with his legs wide apart, his posture screaming arrogant dickishness. "Look. It's already ten in the morning. If your buddy doesn't call in the next two hours with proof, Crowe's going to set off the bomb at the hospital, and probably makes me chop off your fingers."

Shaking his head slightly, Wyatt stared at Grimsbane. "So?" he asked. He knew all of that already; Crowe's grand plan was all those two assholes had discussed since they'd ended the call with Mac. Truth be told, the closer they got to noon the more anxious Wyatt became, but so far he'd been able to contain his fear and put on a tough guy act. He had to believe Mac had found a way to trick Crowe and save the situation.

"So", Grimsbane said, leaning closer to Wyatt. He let his elbows rest on his thighs as he let his arms support his torso. "I meant what I said earlier. We would be a good team."

Wyatt couldn't help a snort. "You're kidding, right?"

"Wish I was", Grimsbane said, sitting upright again. "You're talented, not afraid to use any means possible to get what you want."

"And how'd you know that?"

Grimsbane grimaced. "The stunt you pulled trying to escape. That was bold. You know, even Crowe was impressed. He didn't say anything, but I could see it."

"You're nuts", Wyatt said, staring at Grimsbane with an amused look on his face. "I'm not like you. I work to make the world a better place."

Shrugging, Grimsbane shifted his gaze from Wyatt to the door for a second, as if to see if anyone was there. Crowe had left them a good few hours ago and still hadn't returned. After making sure it was just the two of them, Grimsbane looked back at Wyatt. "Crowe's a lunatic, we both know that. His methods are questionable, sure, but he's not as bad as you make him seem. Do you even know what he's fighting for?"

"No, and I don't care", Wyatt said. "Whatever he thinks he's fighting for, he's hurting innocent people, civilians, children. That's inexcusable. End doesn't justify means, and killers can't just go free because they have some sort of personal crusade."

Grimsbane snorted. "I see your point. I do. But you don't see it from our perspective."

"I don't need to", Wyatt said firmly. He glared at Grimsbane, no longer amused by the situation. What was this guy trying? "Are you trying to recruit me or something here? Because I can tell you, you're not doing a very good job."

Grismbane shook his head, the look in his eyes serious but somehow very calm. "I'm not recruiting you, because I know you'd never be a part of our team. You're too caught up in the lies our government feeds you. You've been manipulated into thinking the world is black and white and that's how you see it, because you're a soldier. What I am trying to do, is make you understand that this doesn't have to end in your fingers getting chopped off."

Wyatt couldn't help it - he snorted. "Right. And even if I wanted that, how are you gonna pull that off with Crowe? Just walk up to him and say 'hey boss, I'm sorry but I think Wyatt's a good guy and maybe we shouldn't tear off his fingers'?"

"No. Do you know why he's so set on killing all of you?"

"Someone paid him to", Wyatt answered.

Grimsbane nodded. "Exactly. But who would have beef with Section 20? I'm sure the list is long, but who would go through all the trouble of getting Crowe to do it for them?"

Wyatt fell quiet. He didn't know, now that he thought of it. He knew that they had a lot of enemies, but most were either dead, locked up, or didn't know who Section 20 actually were. The few remaining people didn't have the resources to do something like this.

Taking Wyatt's silence as uncertainty, a knowing look rose on Grimsbane's face. "Exactly. It's not about Section 20, never was. Well, in a way. His employer wants your boss."

"Donovan?" Wyatt asked, furrowing his brows. "Why?"

"Over some older crap, I assume. I don't know", Grimsbane replied. "What I do know is that this employer wants to get to her, and the fastest way is through every one of you. If she lets her whole team get abducted and tortured to death, it's not going to look good. And after my employer lets the world know it was because of her actions, best case scenario, she's going to be stuck in a desk job for the rest of her career."

Wyatt could feel cold shivers run down his back. He didn't know what to do with this information - if it even was true. But on the other hand, it made sense, and Wyatt didn't know why Grimsbane would've lied to him. He felt like emotional torture was kind of unnecessary after all the physical pain he'd suffered in their hands. A few lies didn't hurt him, and Grimsbane had to know that.

"Why are you telling me this?" Wyatt asked. There had to be a catch, he just couldn't figure it out.

"Because we both know that this isn't going to end well for you", Grimsbane said. "And we both also know that your friends are talented at what they do. You probably told McAllister everything you knew about where you are when you spoke, so there's a possibility they're all heading here right now to save you. But who do you think I'm going to kill first if they set a foot one mile from here? Hint, it's not any of them."

"You're not answering my question", Wyatt said.

Grimsbane nodded. "My point is that there's a possibility Crowe's plan will fail. Help us lure Section 20 into a trap and I'll promise to make your death fast. Bullet to the brain, point blank. You wouldn't suffer."

"No", Wyatt said without missing a beat. This was insane. What kind of person did Grimsbane think he was? He could feel his blood starting to boil in anger as he continued, unsuccessfully trying to keep his voice down. "I'll rather die a slow, painful death than lure my friends into a trap. I'm not like you, you sick shit. My team actually means something to me. What do you even care what happens to me?"

"I don't", Grimsbane replied coldly. "If I got to decide, I'd put a bullet through your other leg as well, just for the way you talk back to me. But Crowe didn't hire me to mindlessly shoot people I hate, he hired me to make sure this plan pans out, and that is what I am going to do. Now, you can either help us or not, but if I was you, I'd do everything in my power to help. You've seen what Crowe is capable of, and he hasn't even been serious yet. Do you really want to suffer just so your teammates could have a slim chance? Because we will get to them eventually, and until we do, you're going to sit right here and suffer."

"You don't get it, do you?" Wyatt spat, not bothering to control himself or his words. "Your life revolves around one thing and one thing only, yourself. Your loyalty can be bought and the second someone offers you more than Crowe does, you jump ship. I'd rather die than be like you, you hear me? And shit, if I ever woke up and realised I'd become something like you, I'd put a bullet in my head myself."

Wyatt fell quiet. He wasn't sure what he expected Grimsbane to do, but Grimsbane's calm manner surprised him. He stood up and looked down at Wyatt, a disappointed look on his face. "Can't say I didn't try. Just remember, when I come back and watch Crowe hurt you, I gave you a way out."

xxx

"Nothing here", Novin's voice rattled through the earpiece in Mac's ear. They'd both switched to a private channel, so Donovan or none of the rest could hear them. "The place is empty, had been for a while."

Mac cursed in his mind. "Check out the other, then. We gotta hurry. We've only got…" he paused to check his watch, "an hour and fifteen minutes before noon. And if we don't have Wyatt by then, Crowe's gonna hurt him."

He was heading through the small trail to one of the three cabins he had to search through. He was almost there because he could see the cabin peeking from between the thick woods as the trail twisted and turned. Barely any sunlight pierced the treetop, but Mac definitely preferred it that way. It was easier to blend into the shadows.

"Yeah. I still just think we should've told Donovan about this", Novin said. She sounded uncertain as she spoke. "Or at least Reynolds. They could have a lot of men at the cabin and going in alone is a risk."

"We can't risk it", Mac said. "Donovan would just drop a bomb on the cabin and kill Wyatt right there with Crowe and Grimsbane. And even if we talked her out of it, Crowe wouldn't hesitate to kill Wyatt if he thought we had a lead on their location. The less people know about this, the better. We have to do this alone."

Novin sighed. "I get what you're saying, but it still feels dangerous." Mac could hear her climbing into her car and slamming the door shut.

"Just keep me posted", Mac said.

"You too", Novin replied and the line cut to silence.

Mac neared the end of the trail where it widened into a large yard with no trees. He slowed down his pace, crouched slightly, and listened, but couldn't hear anything but a handful of birds and a few crickets. It would've been peaceful if the circumstances had been any other, but right then it was unnerving. If this was the cabin, silence meant nothing good.

He stepped off the trail and into the woods, continuing the last few yards there until he reached the end of it. There he stopped, crouched into the tall grass, and eyed the cabin. It felt quiet and calm enough, and there was nothing outside that hinted at anyone residing there. No footprints, no cigarette butts, no nothing. The lights inside the cabin were off, so he couldn't see inside, but a gut feeling told him this wasn't it. This wasn't the place.

Regardless of the feeling, Mac stood up and drew out his gun, approaching the cabin as fast as he could go without making any noise. He stopped at the door, pressed his back against the wall, and slowly pressed down the handle.

The door opened without a hitch. Whoever this cabin belonged to clearly didn't expect anyone to ever come there.

Mac went in gun first, ready for anything, and stepped into a tiny, dusty living room.

Nobody had set a foot in the cabin in years. A thick layer of dust covered the furniture and the floor, and Mac didn't need to see any more. His gut feeling had been right and this wasn't the place.

He checked the time as he turned around and returned outside. They had an hour and seven minutes left, and it would take him twenty minutes to reach the second cabin. He had to hurry or Wyatt would be as good as dead.

Pressing on his earpiece, Mac jogged back towards his car. "This wasn't the place either. I'm going to check the second cabin out."

"I'm twenty-five minutes away from my next cabin", Novin replied. "Race you."

Mac snorted. "You know I'm gonna win."

"Don't be so sure", Novin replied, a playful tone in her voice. "Loser buys a round tonight."

"Better get your wallet ready", Mac said, grinning as he made his way back down the serpentine trail. They'd checked two out of five cabins already, and only had three to go. He just hoped they wouldn't run out of time - they couldn't, or it would be Wyatt who paid the tough, painful price.

xxx

The door to the cabin was swung open and Wyatt flinched awake. He'd been left alone, and for some time he'd tried to get free - an instinctive thing - but failed. He guessed he must've drifted off at some point, and he didn't blame himself for it. His whole body had screamed for proper rest for a day, and only getting a restless hour long nap every now and then hadn't really helped.

He couldn't see the door, but the incomer quickly walked over to Wyatt and into his line of vision. Crowe. _Perfect._

Before Crowe could open his mouth to speak, Wyatt saw the twisted look on his face and could feel his heart skip over a beat. Was it noon already? It couldn't be, could it? No. It couldn't. If it was, it meant Mac had failed and Wyatt would get his fingers cut off or something worse, and he didn't want that to happen.

"Did I wake you?" Crowe asked, a smirk rising on his lips as he stared down at Wyatt. He'd changed his clothes and was now wearing a classy black suit with a plain white tie, like an old gangster. All he was missing was the mustache and the hat and his set would've been complete. "Sorry for leaving so abruptly. I realised I needed a change of clothes."

"Nice look", Wyatt said, eyeing Crowe from head to toe. "You know, if you want to go down like Al Capone, we can arrange that."

Crowe paid no attention to Wyatt's words. "Because, you see, it's already fifteen minutes to noon", he said, leaning so close to Wyatt he could see a little bit of something green stuck between Crowe's two front teeth. "Which means your buddy has fifteen minutes to call me. If he fails… well, you know what'll happen. I need to look my absolute best for it."

"Broadcasting it live?" Wyatt asked. "If you wanted me to star in a reality show, all you needed to do was ask."

The grin on Crowe's lips widened but also changed to something way grimmer as he grabbed Wyatt by the jaw. Wyatt could feel his fingers dig into the wounds on his cheek, and he gasped as the painful sting he hadn't felt in a few hours returned.

"You have such a smart mouth, but I'm sure you're aware of that already", Crowe hissed. "Maybe we won't start with your fingers. I think we'll go with your tongue." With that he released Wyatt with a partial shove and stood back, glaring down at him. "Grimsbane told me about the deal he offered you, and let me tell you, it still stands. He's right. Catching the others is more important than torturing just one person."

"And I'll tell you what I told him", Wyatt said, fighting through the pain stinging in his cheek with every word he spoke. It brought tears to his eyes but he blinked them away. "No. I'll rather die."

"Oh, you're dying whatever you choose", Crowe replied.

Wyatt smirked. He didn't want to die - not before he saw this asshole go down. Of all the people he'd hunted, who had hurt him, of all the people he had argued and fought with… Crowe was the worst by a long shot. And the only thing that kept him sane was the thought of bringing him down. Make him suffer like he'd suffered. Sure, the thought of shooting Grimsbane in the thigh was a great one, but Crowe was something else. Wyatt wouldn't rest until Crowe got what he deserved.

"Exactly. I'd rather die a friend than a traitor", Wyatt said.

"You think your team is worth dying a slow, miserable death?" Crowe asked. "But have it your way. I'm just surprised. You act so brave when in reality you're just a scared boy tied to a chair. I will kill you, Wyatt. And I will make it slow. I know it frightens you."

"I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore", Wyatt said. It wasn't all true; even though he was mostly furious at that point, he was also scared, achingly so. But Crowe didn't need to know that. "And even if you kill me, the rest of Section 20 is going to make sure you get what's coming. Trust me, Crowe. You're not getting away with this."

Crowe tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he stared down at Wyatt. "Oh. I'm getting away with this and not only that. I'm getting away tens of thousands richer. You can trust me on that."

As Crowe walked away to do God knows what, Wyatt let out a sigh. He could feel blood dripping down his cheek from the reopened wound, but he didn't care - it wasn't like he felt himself bleed for the first time through this all. At least bleeding made him realise he was still alive, ten minutes away from getting his tongue cut out, and he wasn't doing anything about it.

He wanted to punch himself. He'd wasted so much time just yanking at the restraints keeping him in place he hadn't even considered other means of freeing himself. His plan in the basement had nearly worked, surely he could pull off something like that again. If Mac didn't either call or arrive in less than ten minutes, Wyatt would be screwed.

And even if he failed to get free, it wasn't like Crowe could do anything worse than what he had already promised to do. He had nothing to lose. He was screwed either way but he didn't want to wait around and just allow it to happen.

He was a soldier, for fuck's sake. He was Section 20. He wouldn't give up.

He heard Crowe walk down the creaky stairs to the basement. He was alone, and he had to act now if he ever was going to. He had a few minutes, tops, and he had to move.


	6. Chapter 6

_An: So, welcome to the final chapter - finally! Let's get on this._

xxx

Looking around, Wyatt tried to look for something, _anything,_ that would help him get free, but saw nothing of use.

His heart started to race in his chest. Fifteen minutes, had Crowe said, and at least a few minutes had already passed. He had to hurry. He had to try something.

Throwing his body to the side, he started to move to the right, slowly trying to turn around to see the kitchen behind his back. The legs of the chair scraped the floor loudly, and with every move he felt his fear and desperation grow. Crowe had to hear him move. He could come back upstairs any moment now, and Wyatt would be screwed.

It took him a few more tries but eventually he managed to move the chair enough to see the kitchen. A few dirty cups lay on the counter, as well as a couple of plates. But what caught his attention was the knife. It was probably some sort of butcher's knife, big and sharp with a pointy tip and smooth edge. He had to get to it. He could cut himself free using it.

The knife lay on the counter at about Wyatt's head's level. He knew that if he could just reach it, he could grab it with his mouth, drop the knife on his lap and use it to carefully cut through his restraints.

It was his only chance.

He threw his body to the side again, moving the chair a couple of inches. As he moved and gradually got closer to the counter, he could feel his desperation making him stronger. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he kept moving, his movements bigger each time, the chair moving more and more with each throw.

The stairwell creaked. Crowe was coming back up, and Wyatt still had a little to go.

"Come on", he muttered underneath his breath as he threw himself again. The legs of the chair groaned, scraping the wooden floor as he moved an inch closer. Two more throws and he was nearly there. Only a few more.

He threw himself again, already picturing Crowe interrupting him in action. There would be no explaining what he'd tried to do, and Crowe would be furious to find out Wyatt had tried to escape again. Crowe wouldn't stop hurting him before Wyatt would scream for mercy. And everything would be filmed and sent to Section 20.

Moving again, the chair creaked and one of the back legs snapped. Wyatt nearly fell over, just barely getting himself to stay up by throwing his torso as far down as it would go, balancing the weight on the chair.

"Shit", he cursed silently, looking at the knife. He could hear Crowe better already. He would reach upstairs any second now.

Realizing he had to move now or forget about ever getting free on his own, Wyatt drew in a shaky breath and went for the knife. He shot up, aimed for the knife with his mouth wide open, and grabbed it by the handle with his teeth just as the chair tipped and he crashed down on his back.

Crowe's angry voice rang in his ears. "Hey, what the hell is going on?" he screamed, and his steps echoed faster now.

Not missing a second, Wyatt dropped the knife on his chest. Escaping got a whole lot harder now that he was down on his back, but he had to manage. He had no time to think, so he just acted; he couldn't reach his chest because he could only move his wrists, but his torso hadn't been tied. Quickly he arched his back and leaned up as much as he could, lifting himself up enough to be able to grab the knife with his right hand.

The door into the living room was practically kicked open, but Wyatt had no time to look at Crowe. Instead, he twisted the knife in his hand, slipped the tip under his restraints and applied pressure. Enough to swiftly cut through it.

He lost no time cutting his other hand free and then moved to his legs.

"You!" Crowe screamed. He'd appeared into the kitchen and was standing above Wyatt with a furious look on his face. He was holding a camera and a laptop in his hands, so he stopped to lay them down on the counter before attacking.

That was a mistake.

It gave Wyatt enough time to cut free his both legs as well, and even though he had no time to get up before Crowe had charged at him and kicked the knife off his hands, he didn't need it anymore. He was free, and all he had to do was fight Crowe. And that wouldn't be hard with all the rage he felt inside. Rage, fear, despair. Despair above all.

The knife flew from his hand and landed somewhere further in the kitchen. Giving Wyatt barely any time to react, Crowe had sent his foot crashing into Wyatt's side. It sent a blinding flare of pain up his ribs, enough to get Wyatt to gasp and cry out.

He felt nausea rise in his chest as black dots danced in front of his vision. All he could think of at that moment was the pain and Grimsbane, and how it hasn't been for him and flying out of that damn window, that kick would've barely hurt.

Crowe took advantage of the situation, grabbed Wyatt by the shoulders and forced him up, throwing him back first against the kitchen counter. There was rage on his face, something so wild and uncontrollable it scared Wyatt as he noticed it.

"You just don't learn!" Crowe screamed, punching Wyatt in the face. "I will fucking teach you!"

As Crowe pulled back his wrist to hit again, Wyatt got some of his instincts back and shot his arms up, blocking the punch with his arm. He used his other arm to grab Crowe by the collar of his suit jacket and as he pushed Crowe's arm away, he, in turn, punched Crowe across the face. He hit him once, then twice, and then released Crowe with a shove backward.

Crowe staggered back, his nose spurting out blood. "You're going to die", he hissed, stopping to glare at Wyatt.

"Yeah, so you keep saying", Wyatt answered, his side still throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, and then attacked.

He gave Crowe no time to prepare, but he'd seen the attack coming. As Wyatt went in to punch Crowe, he blocked it, swiftly punching Wyatt in the ribs with his other hand. As Wyatt cried out, doubling ever so slightly, Crowe charged at him, tackling Wyatt to the ground.

Wyatt hit the floor back first and gasped as another lightning of pain shot through his body. Crowe wasted no time jumping on top of him, pinning Wyatt's arms to the floor by placing his knees on top of his elbows. Crowe leaned in, grabbed Wyatt by the throat, and squeezed.

"Don't worry", Crowe murmured as Wyatt desperately tried to free his arms from underneath Crowe's weight. "I'm not going to kill you. And when you wake up, you'll be back in that chair and you'll be mine."

He couldn't breathe - Crowe's fingers were pressing on his windpipe and all Wyatt could think about was dying, how he didn't want to but how it started to sound better by the second. He refused to be tortured like that, he couldn't take any more of it, he just couldn't. He'd lose his mind, his health, everything. He'd never be the same and Crowe could walk away a free man, never to be found again, only to do it to someone else somewhere else.

Wyatt wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't.

The knife lay just there, half a yard from his face on the floor. He could reach it. He had to.

With the last of his willpower, he mustered enough strength to throw his body up. The momentum wasn't enough for Crowe to let go, but it made Wyatt's arms slip free from underneath his knees' weight. Probably not fully realizing Wyatt's arms were free again, Crowe slammed him into the floor again. Immediately Wyatt shot his other hand towards the knife, grabbed it, and slammed it through Crowe's thigh.

Crowe screamed in pain as he let go of Wyatt. Wyatt acted fast, letting go of the knife and pushing Crowe off of himself before quickly backing up.

He stopped when he felt the wall behind his bare back. His whole body trembled from the fear and adrenaline as he gasped for air, massaging his sore throat for split second before realising that the fight wasn't over. He still wasn't free yet.

Wyatt stood up and leaned against the counter to keep himself on his feet. The adrenaline numbed the pain from the shotgun wound on his thigh but didn't fully erase it. He looked down at Crowe, who sat on the floor with the knife sticking through his arm, and laughed.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Wyatt hissed. He wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

Crowe looked up at Wyatt. Blood spilled from the wound on his arm, dripping down on his pants before disappearing into the black fabric. "Did you forget it's not just the two of us here?"

 _Shit_. Wyatt had already forgotten about Grimsbane. His eyes widened and Crowe chuckled.

Like magic, the front door opened and Grimsbane stepped in, unaware of the situation before he stopped and saw what had happened. Crowe on the floor, a knife through his arm, bleeding. Wyatt standing up, hunched over the kitchen counter.

"We were just talking", Wyatt said, not bothering to come up with an even half believable excuse. The situation looked just like it was. There was no denying what had happened. "Wanna join in?"

Grimsbane's face darkened as he started to approach Wyatt. "I'm almost thankful you've done this", he said as he stopped by Crowe's side. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Wyatt smirked. He knew it to be dumb to annoy Grimsbane further, but he had nothing to lose, except the fight.. and maybe his sanity and life. "Yeah? Bring it on, then. Let's see who wins this time."

As Grimsbane charged at Wyatt, he knew the fight to be impossible to win. He had struggled even when he'd been perfectly healthy; now, with one leg and busted ribs, it would be practically impossible. All he knew was he had to try. At least then, if and when he failed, he could get tortured knowing he hadn't just succumbed to his fate and he'd fought 'til the last breath, so to say.

That was enough for him.

He dodged Grimsbane's first attack by jumping to the side, and quickly he brought his elbow down on Grimsbane's spine before spinning around and backing to the direction of the front door. He didn't take his eyes off Grimsbane.

Crowe had climbed to his feet and retracted to the door. There was no way out before he'd beaten them both. At least they were making the fight fairer by only attacking one at a time; if they'd both attacked at the same time, Wyatt wouldn't have stood a chance. It would've been game over in less than five seconds.

Wyatt eyed Grimsbane as he looked around himself and then saw something on the counter, quickly reaching for it. Wyatt turned to see what; an old, rusty potato peeler that clearly hadn't been used in a while. It's sharp, pointy tip was still intact.

Grimsbane readied the peeler in his hand as he charged at Wyatt, who tried to dodge but was a second too late. Grimsbane caught him by the shoulders, not yet stabbing him, and shoved him into the wall back first.

Giving Grimsbane no time to use the peeler, Wyatt brought up his knee and slammed it into Grimsbane's crotch. As Grimsbane grunted in pain, he let go just enough for Wyatt to twist himself free and back up a step.

He needed a weapon. He was already hurt enough as it was; he didn't know if he could deal with a new wound.

Lunging to the nearest counter, Wyatt looked around for anything helpful but was then abruptly grabbed by the neck and yanked back. He felt his shoulders hit something soft but solid - Grimsbane's chest - as Grimsbane's other arm clamped tightly around his throat and squeezed. He could feel the tip of the peeler on his stomach, ready to be pushed in.

"Don't kill him", Crowe barked from the front door where he still stood.

"I won't", Grimsbane replied, chuckling into struggling Wyatt's ear. "Yet."

Wyatt gave him no time to push the peeler into his flesh. Acting on instinct, he pulled his head forward and then slammed it back, the back of his head colliding with Grimsbane's nose. As Grimsbane gasped in pain and surprise, Wyatt grabbed Grimsbane's arms, twisted them, and shot out of his hold.

Wasting no time, he spun around to face Grimsbane. What seemed like liters of blood had already erupted from his nose and onto his face, and Wyatt couldn't lie - the sight felt good.

As Grimsbane charged at Wyatt, he dodged the attack and spun around behind Grimsbane, grabbing the nearest thing he could - a small glass - and smashed it over Grimsbane's head. It shattered into a million pieces and blood spurted out from the fresh wound on the back of Grimsbane's head, but Wyatt didn't stop to enjoy the sight.

Not giving Grimsbane time to turn around, Wyatt kicked the side of his knee while simultaneously shoving Grimsbane. It was enough to make him crash to the floor with a pained grunt.

Wyatt breathed heavy as he stared down at Grimsbane. He'd won. Now he only had to deal with Crowe and he'd be a free man. _Finally._ "How you like it now, you fucking-"

The sharp, piercing pain deep in his shoulder was enough to make him cry out, but before he could even turn around to see what had happened, Crowe had already grabbed him by the arm and swung him into the nearest wall. Wyatt collided with it face first and lost his footing, crashing to the floor on his butt with a groan.

He saw the kick coming half a second before it hit but had no time to block it. Crowe's shoe slammed into his jaw, sending Wyatt crashing onto his back.

For a second he saw only stars. He lay on the floor, overrun by the pain in his body, his ribs once again flaring in unbearable agony and his shoulder feeling like someone had cut it in two. He couldn't breathe, and as he tried to draw in a shaky breath, all he could do was gasp.

He saw Crowe take a step towards him. He stopped above Wyatt, staring down at him with the bloodied knife still in his hands. The look on his face was way beyond furious now, but yet somehow so calm. "I told you", Crowe simply said before turning to Grimsbane, who had gotten up to his feet. "Get the camera, start broadcasting. We're doing this here."

Grimsbane nodded, wiped away some of the blood on his face, and then moved to get the camera from the counter.

Wyatt wanted to move, he wanted to fight and kick and scream, but he now knew it wouldn't help. He wasn't okay enough to fight, not these two, and he'd learned that the hard way. But somehow he didn't regret it, not in the slightest. At least he'd given it his best shot and hurt them both before losing.

Crowe crouched, the familiar cold grin rising on his lips as he stared down at Wyatt. "This is why I admire you. And this is also why I'm going to enjoy killing you. An opponent this good? Thank you, Wyatt, for not making this easy for me."

Wyatt closed his eyes. He heard the camera beep as Grimsbane turned it on, but he kept his eyes tightly shut. He wouldn't give them anything. They could do whatever they fucking pleased, but Wyatt was going to keep breathing and focus on staying alive.

He heard Crowe stand up and clear his throat. "Hello, Section 20", he said, his tone that of a ringmaster; excited and as if he was trying to convince Wyatt's teammates they would be about to see the best show of their lives.

At least it would be unforgettable.

Crowe crouched again, Wyatt could feel his hands brush against his own cheek. "You must remember your dear old friend. Say hello, Wyatt."

Wyatt opened his eyes and glanced at the camera. Grimsbane was holding it, aiming it at Wyatt's face. "Fuck you", Wyatt muttered.

The pain was a surprise but not an unexpected one. Wyatt gasped and cried as the first inch of the knife dug into the sore flesh of his side. He felt blood drip from the wound and he tensed, about to help himself up. Crowe quickly pushed him back down.

"Say hello", Crowe said again, colder this time. The knife was still in Wyatt's flesh.

"Fuck. You", Wyatt hissed through gritted teeth.

Crowe pushed the knife in a little more, and Wyatt cried out, louder now. "Say hello, or I swear to God…"

"No!" Wyatt screamed, letting his head fall back as the pain took over his senses. He wouldn't do anything this psycho told him to, he wouldn't.

To his surprise, Crowe yanked the knife out instead of pushing it in more. "Seems like Wyatt still has some fight left in him", he said, looking at the camera. "That's good. How I prefer it. But because someone failed to deliver me something, Wyatt is going to pay the price. I know about the bomb, Section 20. And Wyatt will pay for that, too. Trust me. Just watch."

xxx

"Are you seeing this shit?" Novin's shocked voice rang through the earpiece, and she didn't have to explain further. Mac had gotten the text of the link for the video Crowe was broadcasting; he was watching it as he drove. "He's gonna kill Wyatt."

"He's toying with him", Mac said as he stepped on the gas pedal. He was driving way over the speed limit but he had no time to waste. He knew where Wyatt was, and he was still three minutes out. The second cabin had been empty as well, aside from the very shocked old couple Mac had apparently scared half to death by charging in with a loaded gun in his hands. He'd wasted too much time apologizing for the old lady screaming at him in a language he didn't speak.

Novin gasped as she saw what was happening on the screen. Wyatt's loud pained groan filled the car for a second and then it was drowned by Crowe's angry scream. "Don't talk back to me!"

Mac glanced at the screen. Crowe had forced Wyatt against the kitchen counter. They were both on the floor, Wyatt sitting down and Crowe kneeling beside him. Crowe had his other arm, the one holding the knife, pinned against Wyatt's throat and the other fingers of the other hand pressed into a bleeding wound on Wyatt's shoulder.

"He's fucking nuts", Novin exhaled. "Where are you?"

"Almost there", Mac said firmly. He was a minute out from the nearest parking lot. He'd have to walk from there because there was no guarantee Crowe wouldn't kill Wyatt the second he saw Mac arrive. It would take him three or four minutes from the parking lot of the nearby gas station to reach the cabin if he ran.

"Reynolds and Jensen are bombing me with messages, asking me where I disappeared to and if I'm seeing this", Novin said. "What do you want me to tell them?"

Mac resisted the urge to snort. He had more important things to worry about right now than what Reynolds and Jensen thought. "Tell them I'm handling it."

"I have something to tell you", Crowe's voice brought Mac down to earth again. There was something about his tone that made Mac stop and listen. "I proposed a deal to Wyatt. Actually, both I and Grimsbane did. We told him that if he gave you, his precious team, up, we'd give him a quick, painless death."

The hairs on the back of Mac's neck stood up as he glanced at the screen. Crowe was still holding Wyatt as he was moments ago, but now his blood-soaked fingers tightly held Wyatt by the jaw instead of his shoulder. Wyatt stared up at the ceiling with a defiant look on his face.

Crowe smirked at the camera. "He refused. So we returned to our plan A. But here's the catch", Crowe said, turning to look at Wyatt. "The deal still stands. If you tell me how to find your team, I will give you the death I promised you. No more pain. Just the bliss of death. What do you say?"

For a moment it looked like Wyatt hadn't even heard him, but after a couple of seconds he looked at Crowe, a weird look on his face Mac had never seen before. It was a mixture of fear and barely contained rage, but also a weird calmness, like he'd accepted what was going to happen.

"You really don't learn", Wyatt hissed, his voice barely audible to Mac. "I'll never help you. You'll never catch them. And even if I die, even if you cut me apart piece by piece and drown me in acid, I'll die knowing you'll never get away with this. And trust me, when they find you… You'll wish I killed you."

Crowe's face stayed neutral for a blink of an eye, and then he acted, almost too fast for Mac to see - and definitely too fast for Wyatt to realize. The hand against his throat was swung down, the knife with it, and the blade buried deep in Wyatt's thigh.

Mac had to turn his gaze away as blood spurted from the wound and Wyatt screamed. He tried to double, to twist away from Crowe, but Crowe abandoned the knife and slammed his arm back on his throat, pinning him against the counter again. "Now, now. No need to be unfriendly", Crowe hissed. "We're all friends here."

"If I'm your friend, I don't want to know how you treat your enemies", Wyatt muttered through the tears forming in his eyes. "You're fucking sick."

"I've been called worse", Crowe said, turning to the camera again. "Well, he said no. I hope you're happy, Section 20. You've trained him well. But I hope you realise that from now on everything he goes through is officially your fault."

Mac swore underneath his breath as unpleasant guilt stung his heart. Rationally thinking he _knew_ it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't fully disagree with Crowe either. He had a point.

Finally, he reached the parking lot of the small gas station. He braked and yanked out the keys, not bothering to lock the doors before swirling around and running into the forest behind the gas station.

xxx

Wyatt closed his eyes as Crowe spoke. He didn't want to listen to him, and drowning him out wasn't hard. The pain he felt in his body was something he hadn't thought could be possible to feel, and just breathing through it was tough enough. He couldn't pay attention to Crowe's words even if he wanted to. The knife was still stuck in his leg, which he was grateful for; there was no way the knife hadn't severed a major blood vessel, and right now that same knife was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out. Crowe must've known that too.

He barely felt Crowe's arm on his throat anymore. He wasn't squeezing or applying any pressure, just held it there to make sure Wyatt knew to stay put. It wasn't like Wyatt needed to be told it anyways; he wasn't able to go anywhere in his state, with his other leg wounded by the bullet and the other by the knife still stuck in his flesh. His shoulder throbbed in the rhythm of his heartbeat and his ribs protested against every slight movement he made.

Yeah. He wasn't going anywhere, Crowe had made sure of it.

And it wasn't like he was unafraid of the situation. Definitely not. He didn't remember a time he'd been this terrified, because he knew what was about to come and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. He felt nauseous, and not only because of the pain. But he wasn't going to let Crowe or Grimsbane see it. It was his last act of defiance; he'd suffocate his screams and blink away his tears for as long as he could.

An almost gentle pat on the cheek snapped him away from his thoughts and he opened his eyes. Crowe was staring at him, an arrogant smirk on his face. If Wyatt had had the strength, he would've punched that damn smirk off his lips and shove it up his-

"What do you say?" Crowe asked. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Before Wyatt could open his mouth to reply with one of his go-to sentences in situations like those, Crowe had shifted on his feet and forced Wyatt on the floor on his back. He felt his ribs flare up again as he moved, and it made him hiss in surprise. Quickly he silenced himself, biting down on his lip as he fought through the burning pain.

Crowe grimaced at the camera for a quick second before turning back to Wyatt and practically hopping onto his stomach. Wyatt fought against Crowe as he grabbed Wyatt's other hand and forced it below Crowe's knee, but couldn't free his hand. His movements were quickly growing sloppy. Maybe the wound on his thigh bled more than he'd thought.

"Don't worry", Crowe said as he grabbed Wyatt's free arm, forcing it down on the floor with the outside of his palm against the wooden floor. He held it down by the wrist. "I've decided to let your tongue be. Allow you to beg."

"Go to hell", Wyatt hissed, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried his best to fight against the ever growing fear that made his whole body tense and feel like he was being drowned and couldn't breathe, but it was too strong. He couldn't stop himself from struggling, despite the pain it caused him, which only seemed to make Crowe even more excited to do what he was about to do.

Crowe glanced at Grimsbane. "The knife, please."

Grimsbane nodded, digging into the back of his jeans. He pulled out a hunting knife of sorts, by the look of it, a relatively big and definitely very sharp blade. It had been sheathed, but Grimsbane managed to pull the knife out of its cover without ever lying the camera down.

He handed the knife to Crowe. "There you go."

"Make sure to get a good shot. This is what everyone's been waiting for", Crowe said. "Make sure Section 20 sees _everything_."

Wyatt saw the knife and a full-blown panic engulfed him. This was it, Crowe was going to cut off his damn fingers and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he lived, he'd never be a soldier again. His life would be over, because all his life he'd ever been one thing and one thing only, a goddamn soldier, and that was all he knew how to do. Crowe would take all that away for him for what? Money? Some sort of sick version of fame?

"No", Wyatt said, not caring anymore about seeming weak. He couldn't do this. He had to get away, Crowe had to stop, this _couldn't happen._ "No, please, come on, don't do this. Crowe, please." He tried to wiggle, but couldn't. Crowe had him pinned down and he was completely and utterly defenseless.

Crowe laughed. "I told you you'd beg." He turned to the camera as he readied the knife in his hands, placing it directly on top of Wyatt's second knuckles. "This is for you, Section 20. Enjoy the show."

Wyatt gasped, closed his eyes -

Something hard collided with something else with a loud bang and Wyatt flinched, as did Crowe, and then, just one-thirds of a second later, a second bang, louder this time. A bang Wyatt immediately recognised to be a gunshot.

A second gunshot followed the first and Wyatt felt something warm drip on his stomach.

A third gunshot echoed out, and a cry of surprise and pain.

Wyatt opened his eyes. Crowe, with a bullet sized hole in his chest, looked up at the door with pure shock and horror on his face. Blood was dripping from the single wound onto Wyatt's bare skin.

"You piece of shit!" Mac screamed, charging at Grimsbane, who was still also standing despite the bullet in his stomach. As Mac grabbed him and easily slammed him into the nearest wall with such a force even Wyatt could hear his skull crack, Crowe realised he had to move.

Shifting the knife from Wyatt's hand to his throat, Crowe narrowed his eyes. "Too bad."

Before Crowe could slash, Wyatt acted. A new rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he ripped his hand away from Crowe's grasp and grabbed the hand holding the knife. With one strong pull, he'd managed to get the knife away from himself, and not losing any time he shot up as much as he could, grabbing Crowe by the throat and pushing him off.

"Mac!" Wyatt yelled, falling onto his back again as his ribs sent a flare of agony up and down his body.

Crowe slashed out with his knife but Wyatt rolled on his side, away from Crowe, dodging the knife by less than half of an inch.

As Mac let Grimsbane's mostly unconscious body fall to the floor, he turned his attention to Crowe, aiming his gun at him. "Stop!" he screamed, his finger already twitching on the trigger. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

Surprisingly, Crowe stopped. He was sitting on the floor with his hand raised in an attempt to cut Wyatt again, but he stopped midway the hit and turned his head to look at Mac. The expression on his face was blank. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you found us this quickly."

"Shut the fuck up", Mac hissed, walking over to Wyatt. He kept his eyes and gun pointed at Crowe, not allowing him the chance to attack again. "Drop the knife and slide it away. Now."

Crowe did as he was told.

"Now stay there or I swear, I'm going to put a bullet through your head", Mac said, and Wyatt knew it to be a real threat.

Wyatt pulled himself into a sitting position, his head way too light for comfort and the nausea in his stomach really bothering him now. He wasn't going to last for long before losing consciousness, he knew that.

Mac offered him his hand. "Hey. Come on, buddy", he said as Wyatt grabbed his hand and allowed Mac to help him up.

Once on his feet, Wyatt realised just how bad he felt and staggered a step backward. "Woah", he gasped, quickly grasping at Mac to stay up. The floor beneath his feet felt like waves crashing into him.

Mac held on to Wyatt with his free hand, but the gun he kept aimed at Crowe, who was growing pale now. Blood was spilling out of the hole in his chest at a pace Wyatt had never seen before, but for some reason, he didn't feel grossed out. This asshole got what he deserved. There would be nobody at his funeral and he would be buried somewhere far from others, and nobody would ever visit his grave. Knowing that Crowe would die alone and loved by no one was revenge enough for Wyatt.

"We gotta get you to a hospital", Mac said softly. "What're we gonna do with him? We can't wait for him to bleed out or wait for backup. You're gonna bleed out before that happens."

Wyatt eyed Crowe. He looked so small, sitting there on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. It was hard to imagine that man had just a minute ago been in charge of Wyatt's life, whether he died or not. And now he was the one bleeding out while Wyatt was being supported by his friend, someone he could trust with his life.

After all that had happened, Wyatt had come out alive, and would eventually be stronger than ever before, all thanks to Crowe.

Crowe, on the other hand, would die, and nobody would miss him.

"Give me that", Wyatt said, reaching out his other hand. He nodded at the gun Mac held in his hand. "I gotta do this."

"You sure?" Mac asked, the look on his face more concerned than anything else, and handed over the gun. He grabbed Wyatt tighter.

Wyatt drew in a deep breath as he lifted up the gun. It felt heavy in his hand, almost too heavy to hold, but he managed. And as he stared at Crowe, he felt nothing but anger. This asshole was going to get what he deserved. He was going to die alone and unloved and Wyatt would be the one to give him that.

The same old arrogant smirk returned to Crowe's lips as he looked up at Wyatt. "You're not going to kill me. What about your revenge, hm? Killing me is a mercy. I don't think you'll-"

"Just fucking shut up", Wyatt exhaled, pulling the trigger.

Crowe's head flinched back as the bullet entered it, and then he went limp.

As Wyatt lowered the gun, he felt as if the whole world had gotten brighter. The anger he felt was still there, but somehow it was now more manageable. He could continue his life knowing that sick fuck wasn't going to hurt anyone else ever again - that nobody else would ever have to go through what he went through.

"I'm not like you", Wyatt hissed at Crowe's lifeless corpse.

He felt like collapsing but forced himself to stay on his feet. He had waited for this for what had felt like an eternity. He could wait a little while longer until they got to the hospital.

"It's over", he said, resisting the urge to spit at Crowe's body as the tears he'd been fighting for so long resurfaced again. This time he didn't bother blinking or wiping them away but instead allowed them to roll down his bloodied cheeks.

As they left the cabin, hunched together, Mac's arm thrown over Wyatt's shoulders, Wyatt didn't look back.

It was over.


End file.
